


One big pack

by Gabriel4Sam



Series: Kamino's pack [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Clones, Alpha Jango Fett, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anal Fingering, Breeding Kink, Dead Sidious is the best Sidious, Except Sidious, F/M, Fertility kink, Fisting, Fix-It, I'm not tagging every Jedi/clones pairing ok, Impregnation, Knotting, Lactation, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Anakin Skywalker, Omega Jedi, Omega Obi-Wan Kenobi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Pregnancy Kink, Public Sex, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-01-15 05:36:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 49,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12314802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriel4Sam/pseuds/Gabriel4Sam
Summary: Jedi were supposed to be Null, without secondary gender, but the second Obi-Wan meet Jango, he presented as an omega.Jango Fett hated Jedi. He would have killed Kenobi in combat without second thought, but to kill an Omega in the thrall of pre-heat?It could have been a very strange event only, but it happened again and again and again, every time a Jedi meet a clone...





	1. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SWModdy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SWModdy/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Force gives](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/328842) by SWModdy. 



> Thank you SWModdy who let me play with the idea of Jedi as non presenting in a A/b/o world, and suddenly presenting as omega because of the clones/jango.

 

It was a dark and stormy night.

Of course, every night was dark and stormy on Kamino, but Jango Fett, disembarking from _Slave I_ , didn’t even really register it anymore.

It was Kamino: raining, salted.

Home.

It hadn’t always been, not in the same way. When it had been only him and Boba, Kamino was a temporary safe place and a mean to an end. The end that would be a galaxy without the Jedi putting their noses in everybody’s business.

Now, it was home. And it was full of Jedi.

Who would have thought?

And the galaxy? Well, it wasn’t doing that bad. Thousands of clones did efficiently the work that was sometimes needed to keep stupid sentients to kill each other. There was some small wars sometimes, some horrors, some death. You couldn’t stop people from being people and sometimes it wasn’t pretty, but after the scare of the war and the Sith, the Senate had finally started to do its kriffing work. Under Chancellor Organa’s tutelage, the galaxy was healing.

It was life and for the first time in millennium, people understood Jedi wouldn’t magic their problems for them, and were horrified when a Jedi travelling from Kamino tried. Hardened cutthroats political figures had made peace with each other to appease distressed-smelling Jedi so fast Jango had needed all his poise to stop laughing.

The world has changed and, his hands busy working on automatic on the post flight check, Jango remembered how that had started.

Here.

On Kamino.


	2. Year 978 after the Ruusan Reformation

The important part had been: Jango was a smart man. People saw him armed and dangerous and thought him a thug, perhaps more efficient than most thugs, but they still underestimated his brain.

It was stupid of them.

Jango’s brain was his most dangerous weapon and that’s why he was one of the rare non-Force sensitive alive to be a Jedi-killer, not because he used concussion grenade or was a crack shoot with his blasters.

He had knew from the beginning who Dooku was, had been, would be. He had knew that man had Mandalorian’s blood on his hands and he had very quickly understood that Dooku was only a puppet, and when everything had changed and he made a choice, Dooku and his Master had underestimated him.

They thought him their creature: after all, he still had come to Kamino. He hated the Jedi more than he despised the Sith and here he could work on the end of the Jedi Order and raise an heir for Jaster Mereel.

He named that heir Boba and raised the boy. Every week, every month, every year, that child was less the successor that would honour Jaster and more the son Jango loved.

Sometimes when he saw him playing with his toys, he thought about Order 66 and Operation Knightfall. He had seen the plans for that. The crèche was a primary objective in it: the Jedi within the Temple would come running to it to protect the children and to attack it would ensure nobody would escape: all the Jedi would come running to protect it instead of trying to escape.

Jango didn’t kill children. He had caused the death of some, as collateral damages, but he didn’t take contract on them, and he never shoot impromptu young witness. He had thought it was already too late for the children of the Jedi and better a quick death than growing up to become that, those scentless-warriors who always thought they know best and looked at the galaxy as a bunch of beasts who didn’t know best and needed guidance. A lot of people thought Jedi too different because they didn’t have secondary gender and couldn’t reproduce and called them baby-snatchers, but Jango knew better. He hated them but he knew better: Jedi had no secondary-gender and that didn’t make them better or worse that the other of the spectrum. They were people, just people, and he knew the children, raised communally and not of their blood, were loved and well-cared.

In the long hours of the night it was difficult to stomach, the idea of those children who would be slaughtered by his clones, some even younger than Boba, but they would be the price of a galaxy freed of the Jedi.

And then Kenobi had come to Kamino, infuriating, scent-less and self-righteous like all of them, taken a good look at him and paled. The Jedi had taken a breath as he had been punched and started folding at the knees, with only the reflex to catch himself on the table.

Jango had caught the scent blossoming, strong, so strong, sweet and delicious, urgent and fertile, as Kenobi panted, trying to catch his breath. He felt himself hardening in his pants and made an effort to breath with his mouth to reduce the pheromones’s effect.

“Kriff, aren’t you on suppressant you fucking idiot?”

“I don’t need them!! I’m a null! ” The Jedi protested, his voice already whining.

“Dad, what’s happening?” Boba asked, something like fear in his young voice.

“What’s happening?” Kenobi echoed. His grip on the table made his knuckles white but it wouldn’t be enough and his knees were starting to wobble.

“Lama Su, take Boba and close the door. I will contact you.”

“Father.”

“Do as I said.” Jango snapped.

And Boba went, frightened but ready to obey his Father. He would need to explain later, to ask for forgiveness. He wasn’t in the habit to snap at his son but he could already feel his control falling and Boba didn’t need to see that either.

He abandoned Kenobi and went to his bedroom as quick as he could. He had the proper medication, he was so sure.

Where was it? Where was that kriffin medication? He sent half a closet on the floor before putting his hands on it: Omega were so rare and always on medication, he had never used it, but of all things Jango was, always prepared as best as he could was high on the list.

As best as he could was the word: he had the shoot for him but nothing for Kenobi. He injected the medication in his bloodstream, hands shaking, and after a few seconds, the red that had started creeping on his vision went away. He still felt the compulsion to go in the other room and to mount the sweet-smelling creature in it until Kenobi was round with a full litter of his pups, but it wasn’t all powerful.

The sounds were now of distress: he entered the room again and Kenobi was kneeling on the floor, keening, still panting, his pupils so large that his eyes seemed black.

Jango Fett hated Jedi. He would have killed Kenobi in combat without second thought, but to kill an Omega in the thrall of pre-heat?

No, he wasn’t that sort of man. He took him under the armpits and dragged him to the fresher, Kenobi protesting but, and it was a chance, already too gone to use the Force.

“I’m trying to help, you idiot. It’s coming too strong, it would cook your brain. Not that it would make a difference, krifffin Jedi.”

He put the two of them, still clothed, under the spray of the shower, as cold as he could stomach it, until their teeth were chattering and there was again something in Kenobi’s eyes apart of the despair of a heat too strong. His hands gentle as they were only with Boba, Jango guided his head so they were touching forehead to forehead. The heat was affecting him too, medication or not, and the contact helped.

“What’s happening to me?” Kenobi asked, apparently understanding that Jango was trying to help.

“You’re going into heat and it’s too violent. Were you on suppressant for years?”

“I’m a Force user! I’m a null, as all Force user.”

“Not anymore.”

Kenobi threw a hand and the door of the fresher was ejected two meters in the other room.

“See?” He hissed, something triumphant in his voice.

“Force user or not, it’s a heat.”

“It can’t!” The Jedi stood up, two steps and then fell on the floor.

Jango dragged him under the spray again.

“I feel like I’m dying.” Kenobi moaned against Jango’s collarbone. “Is it supposed to be so strong?”

“It’s not supposed to be. And the cold will not help long.”

Something about Jango secondary gender appeared to have finally occurred to him and he started to push him, a broken sound of fear escaping his lips.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” And, with surprise, he realized he meant it. He was an Alpha and Obi-Wan was an unmated Omega, sweet-smelling and distressed, he would have shot himself before harming him.

“The rut…”

“I took a shoot. I’m not gonna harm you, I’m in control.”

Obi-Wan was panting again, fighting to push the words out.

“And me?”

“Sorry. I don’t exactly collect omega medication.”

This time, Obi-Wan didn’t protest the designation, only keened until Jango’s right hand went to caress his wet hair.

“I’m here, I’m here…” He was almost babbling and he had started panting again. He wanted to kill someone for Kenobi, he wanted to prove himself good for mating, he wanted to push him on his belly, he wanted to see him full of his pups, he wanted to see him nursing children with Boba’s eyes, Boba sleeping against him…He took another controlled breath with his mouth. Even with medication, control was terribly difficult.

“Do you have some toys with inflatable knots?” Kenobi asked.

“I’m not build for them, of course not.”

Kenobi had another noise of distress.

“Tell me there is something other than Alpha humans clones and Kaminoans here. Someone who will have something to help. Medication, toys…”

Jango stayed silent. Of course there wasn’t. Kaminoan were a mess of twenty genders, nothing approaching omega, all clones were alpha and the instructors alpha and beta.

The heat was coming so strong Kenobi’s mind would shatter of unsatisfied heat before help could come from another planet.

“Will you make me beg? Is that what you’re waiting for? ” Kenobi asked, a full minute after, and the words were difficult to discern.

“I won’t force you.” Jango protested, lips tight.

“Better under you that mad.” Kenobi spat and the most primal part of Jango reeled under the words. He would prove his worth, as an Alpha should, this part of him was whispering in his mind. That Omega was smart and pragmatic and still articulate where others would already be begging and the Alpha in him wanted that one in his pack, wanted pups with that mind.

“Is the shoot you took contraceptive?” Kenobi asked.

“Forty hours before I can impregnate someone again. Should be enough.”

“Then do it.” The Jedi spat again.


	3. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

_Slave I_ control biped, forcing Jango to stop remembering. That had been a strange day and not even the more prescient of the Jedi could have predicted it would make way to Kamino as it was today: home of almost forty thousand Force Sensitive, ten times what they had been before, almost one million clones, the other working to shape the galaxy in a better place, something like ten thousands Kaminoans and a few thousands other people, official from the Republic, merchants, travellers… New building were opened every day to contain the growing population.

The Jedi had kept the habit to live together and he had touched down on the main part of the city, where they were. He entered directly in the adults quarters: a necessity because, raised as Force null and in the habits to share everything…well, when all the adults Jedi had become Omega, one after the other, they had developed in this designation the same way they had in their old life about everything. Why search for closed doors for something that was already radiating in the Force?

It had been a bit of a shock for Jango, if he was honest. He hadn’t thought himself a prude, he had seen a lot of things in the galaxy, but you kept those things behind closed doors on Mandalore, you didn’t think normal to mate with your brother in everything but in blood mating in the same room with his own Alpha at the same moment….

Now seven years after Kenobi had come to Kamino, the Jedi had learned to curve a little their ideas about what was appropriate in public…or perhaps only to curve it when people who weren’t Jedi, clones or Jango himself were in the vicinity and he had learned to stop blushing like a teenager when he opened a door and found Sar Labooda and her sister Depa Billaba naked with their mates, even if he had to work with them.

A whole new culture was developing, a strange mix of Jedi culture, Mandalorian, what the clones had already developed….something new.

One big, powerful pack, where the Alpha never competed and Jango was the de facto leader but didn’t try to keep all Omega for himself or to eject other Alpha. After all, they were the same person. Biologist were fascinated by the way the pack bonds had established. What made a Jedi bond with two clones, when another would bond only with one, an Alpha that already had a Jedi Omega?

He greeted some Jedi and some clones in the hangar, his helmet under his arm. Anakin Skywalker was working on a shuttle, or it was more that he was trying to: his belly was in the way, not very surprising since he was almost seven months pregnant with four pups. Jango saw him laugh when he realized he couldn’t reach the filter he was trying to change. His hair haloed his face, shoulder-lengthened, golden and beautiful. Those curls seemed made to push hands into it, to guide that beautiful mouth until it was round around a hard cock. The sound made all the clones turn their heads and smile: an Omega was happy. It was a sound that was heard a lot here: Anakin was so different now from the angry young man that had come to Kamino, ready to rescue his Master that he thought brainwashed.

He was 26 years old, carrying his fourth litter, and he had now everything he had ever wanted: a family that was safe from the dangers of the galaxy, in the most defended place of said galaxy. It was a bonus for him to know the world was slowly becoming a better place but Jango knew his family came first for the young Omega. He had taken to Omega-ness first with suspicion then with delight and mated successfully with three clones that kept him happy and almost always pregnant. Jango stopped at the end of the hangar, called the elevator, his head half-turned to watch the young Omega. Fives had come out of the shuttle and was now kissing the side of his mate’s throat, speaking low. Probably trying to convince him to step inside the small ship for a moment together: those two were the worst. And effectively, they stepped inside the shuttle, Anakin already divesting himself of his simple tunic. Jango didn’t need to see them to know how it would go, he had already seen, on a few occasions, Anakin kneeling, presenting, golden and beautiful with his belly distended by a litter, his rounded chest full of milk, Fives, Hardcase and Rex mounting him one after the other, fucking him slow and deep, using his sweet mouth, until the Omega was spent totally, limp in the nest.

The fertility and the sweet submission always made his blood boil and he always used Obi-Wan hard in those moments…his Omega’s delicious noises of exhausted pleasure in turn getting the other three hard again and making they go back to their own Omega’s sweet hole and tight throat.

He was getting hard thinking of those moments, and that made him remember once again the first time he had mounted Obi-Wan, seven years ago.

 


	4. Year 978 after the Ruusan Reformation

He had taken Obi-Wan to his bedroom: they would probably crash for a time after the first knot and the fresher wouldn’t be ideal for that. It was difficult, cold and shivering as they were, to divest themselves from their clothes. He would have simply cut them in different circumstances but Kenobi would probably try to snap his neck if he used a knife so close.

Nevertheless, that would have been so kriffin easier: how many layers of clothes were in the kriffin Jedi’s uniform? Tunic after tunic after strange thing…And the heat was rising again, colour high on Kenobi’s cheeks, his throat, his torso…He was muscular, more than a typical Omega, something that wasn’t very surprising as he had been Null one hour ago. Jango wouldn’t impregnate him, not with the shoot, but he couldn’t stop himself to see how it would be: weight on the chest to provide milk, the curve of the belly, the hips larger from pregnancy to pregnancy, a mating scar on the neck…Kenobi would have been glorious. And more confident that there, sitting on the bed, his arms around his legs, eying Jango as if he wanted to kill him. Yes, if they had been here by choice, not by necessity, Jango would have make him happy of his place, he would have given him so much pleasure Kenobi would be lose and pliant….

He was stalling.

He sat down atop the covers next to him and put a hand on Kenobi’s bearded face. The other shivered, presenting his throat by instinct, the scent sharpening. He was panting, almost mindless already, and the fear of the unknown was probably the only thing making him still fight it.

“Omega.” Jango purred as low as he could, trying to push him further into heat. If he slept with a Jedi to save his mind, it better work, and it would only if Kenobi let go fast enough.

Kenobi whined, his pupils dilating to their maximum.

“Omega.” Jango repeated, lower, making it almost a growl. His hand went to the other’s neck, his palm against the gland, which was swollen and hot under the skin. He pressed hard on it, earning a moan, a sweet sound that made him harden the rest of the way.

“Alpha…” Kenobi finally answered and it was hesitant, almost a question.

“Yes. Good Omega…” That was a risk: not all Omega loved that sort of discourse, some would have made him eaten his teeth for that, but Kenobi relaxed further and Jango continued: “Sweet thing, good Omega, beautiful, you sweet-scented thing…” He used his mass to push the other man further on the bed, until they were in the middle of it.

“The gland.” Kenobi asked, and it was really impressive that he could still speak.

“Don’t fear. The shoot gives me enough control. No mating.” And what a mess that would have been if he hadn’t had the shoot: they would have been probably already mated and Kenobi pregnant.

The words went directly to Kenobi brain, like it was a switch, and he was on his back, arching for contact. Jango had thought he would roll him onto his belly, help him into position and mount him immediately, but right now it seemed like a bad idea, to force him to present his back to him so soon. He did what he hadn’t envisaged: he kissed him, using his arms to stop himself to cover him totally. Against his skin, he felt Kenobi’s cock, which had been limp, twitching in interest, and beginning to fill.

“Good, good Omega.” Jango crooned against his mouth. It was sweet, warm, pliant under his own, perhaps only a little hesitating. He kissed him again, and again, kisses more long and deeper, until he felt Kenobi opening his legs under him, throwing one around Jango’s hip, moaning again. It was testing Jango’s control to feel him so warm under him but he was of the opinion that when doing something, doing it well was the only manner.

And perhaps there was a touch of Alpha’s old instinct in charge: he was the first to touch Kenobi as an Omega, and he would make it as no other Alpha would surpass it. His mouth went to the white throat, kissing and licking before testing his lover’s reaction to a small bite. Kenobi bucked and gasped, eyes wide, so Jango, pleased, did it again, a little harder. He moved until he could rub a finger against his entrance. It was already slicking but still closed and he caressed it teasingly, the Omega mindlessly keening. He began running his other hand on the Omega’s chest, finding a nipple. Apparently, it was very sensitive and he went to put his mouth on it. If some Alpha one day impregnated that Jedi, it would become larger, the secondary gender kicking in while the pregnancy developed, until Kenobi started to produce milk and the idea was terribly hot.

“That feels good?” he asked and Kenobi moaned in return, non-verbal. Under his finger, more slick was coming, and he encouraged it by rubbing the small hole until it opened. He pushed a finger into the sweet heat and it was perfect, muscles opening obediently, and soon he was three fingers deep into him.

“Alpha…Alpha.” Kenobi was purring and Jango surprised himself a second time: “Jango. Jango, ner Omega.”

“Jango….” And then he mewled when Jango pushed a fourth finger into him, to the third knuckle.

“That’s it, sweet thing. Good Omega. Spread yourself for me. M’ gonna knot you so hard.”

He pushed him onto his belly, helping him into the classic presentation position and the Jedi whined again, low-pitched, an Omega desperate. He pushed slowly, teeth gritting to stop himself from going too fast and too hard. He had never been so desperately aroused in his life and the submission, the acceptance of the body under his wasn’t helping. Kenobi grunted when he bottomed out and then started moaning at every thrust. Jango encouraged his pleasure the best he could, searching his prostate, covering his neck and shoulders with kisses. He had waited the best he could and now the thrusts were becoming harder, instinct surpassing his brain, using Kenobi’s slick hole and limp body, searching pleasure in the submission of an Omega. His knot was coming fast and a moment after, the Jedi orgasmed violently without anyone touching his cock, pushed into it by the knot stretching him for the first time. He had a surprised cry, almost silent for lack of breath, at the sensation of the knot tying them together and the semen filling him. The Alpha onto his back released into him and at every wet spurt, he could feel sanity coming back a little more, chemical flooding his bloodstream in answer. He knew it wouldn’t stay that way, it was only a temporary reprise.

“Move, Fett.” And his voice surprised him by how hoarse it was.

When the other tried to obey, the knot shifted and Obi-Wan felt a pleased moan rise from his throat. Fett petted his head a little awkwardly, and he would have snapped at him if it hadn’t help with the rising panic.

“I will switch to the side. You need to do it at the same time or the knot will hurt you.”

They did exactly that and Obi-Wan found himself on his side, in the bed of a bounty hunter, on a very suspicious planet, the Alpha’s cock still pulsing deep in him to fill him with his seed.

That one would be difficult to explain to the Council.

 


	5. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

Jango began by the tactical center. He didn’t need too, but he liked too be sure there wasn’t a problem, that everything was ok, when he went home after a mission. The tactical center was the war room of a galaxy in peace.  Here Jedi and clones planned, in liaison with the Judicials, the next missions of the clones, and sometimes of the few Jedi that left Kamino.

“ _Buir_!” He opened his arms just in time for Boba, smiling largely. Jango’s heart always did a strange thing in his chest when he saw his son after a time apart.

Boba was 17 and, as all the clones, slightly taller than Jango, since he had had all the proper nutrients in childhood, not like him. He hadn’t yet filled all the way in the shoulder but he was already bloody dangerous, a honour to their pack. The young man had presented as an Alpha one year ago but wasn’t mated yet, thinking better to wait for that important engagement. Jango was pretty sure it was more because Boba was waiting for the young Caleb Dume to present, hoping they would be compatibles, but he pretended he didn’t know.  The young Jedi was sixteen and would probably wait two or three years to present, as it happened slightly later for Omega. He and Boba had a solid friendship, they had spent the last six years finding all troubles possible on Kamino and giving Jango, Obi-Wan and Depa, Caleb’s Master, grey hairs. They would make a good mated pair in Jango’s opinion. The only unknown was the young Stance, CT-1157, a clone from one of the last batch, which had saved Caleb’s life that one time where Kamino had been attacked, five years ago, and was also very close with Caleb. But that would a question for later.

A father couldn’t be more proud and if the hug was short, it was full of feeling, then he took him a little apart to let people work. The atmosphere was calm, almost casual. He could see people manning consoles, the low sound of conversations. There were little nooks in the wall, for people wanting a little privacy but not to leave the room, and they passed one, where he saw Adi Gallia, nursing two pups at the same time, flirting with her mate, what was his name….yes, Fox. Fox’s hand was so high on her leg that wasn’t the leg anymore. Like all Alpha, he found arousing the sight of his mate’s fertility and it was obvious he was only waiting for the pups to finish their meal. In the second one, they seated themselves together. 

“Your mission?” The younger man asked.

“Done. Wilek Nereus won’t be a problem anymore, and I let enough _vode_ on Bakura to keep things calm until the election of a new Senator.”

It was still strange, years after, to work for the law and for the restauration of a proper, working democracy. He blamed Obi-Wan, honestly. Or he pretended too, for the exasperated amusement of his mate when he heard him.

“How were things here? I read the messages, but it isn’t exactly the same.”

“Master Windu entered the birthing room two hours ago.”

“Ponds must be overjoyed. How many are they expecting?”

“Five girls.”

“Good. I’m sure they will do honour to the pack. Other births?”

“Thirty-two, most of them to Knights. Oh, and the New Mandalorians re-scheduled again their next diplomatic visit, in protest against the number of Mandalorians settlers we have here.”

“Hmpf. They will continue to exile themselves on Kamino, until that woman admits her stupid laws butcher Mandalorians’ culture and history. They are hardworking people only trying to live with their traditions. Her loss, our gain. I don’t see why we should play nice with her.”

“And this has nothing to do against the fact that she smells aroused every time she sees Obi-Wan?”

He glared at his son, only gaining a small smirk as answer, and he shook his head, amused.

When he thought he had be so sure, all this years ago, that it would be only one heat with his Jedi. And now, he would take Satine Kryze’s head with his bare hands, if she tried to touch his Omega….


	6. Year 978 after the Ruusan Reformation

 

In a small bedroom on Kamino, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s heart raced in his chest, so quick he thought it would escape its flesh’s prison. He felt Fett’s disengage, in a wet noise that made him grimace and he couldn’t stop a distressed noise. Fett left the bed and went to dig in one the closet… Obi-Wan seated down, grimaced again. Was it supposed to be so…so tender, where Fett had penetrated him?

Fett had come back and threw him something. A pack of electrolyte drink. He had the same in his hand.

“You can check the safety seal.” He said, broking said seal on his own drink and starting to drink. Obi-Wan suddenly realised the Alpha was still totally naked and looked away.

“Thank you.” The Jedi said. Polite. You couldn’t go wrong with polite when the world had taken a suddenly strange turn.

Fett was looking at him. He had a strange gaze, with a weight rare in people who weren’t Jedi or police force. Obi-Wan had seen birds of prey with that gaze.

“What?”

“Trying to decide if you will let me put some pants before you call the magic sword t your hand and try to arrest me.”

“I don’t know, will you let me put pants before you try to kill me with some poisonous darts?”

Fett put his hands in the air, as emphaticizing how naked he was.

“No weapons, right now.” And the gaze of Obi-Wan fell again, as it was magnetized, between his legs. The cock here was half hard, the knot deflated. He was…he had been a Null of his life but the cursus in the Jedi Temple covered basic reproduction in human and near humans, and he knew his new pheromones were causing that fact. Even now, just after taking him, Fett’s body was in overdrive to prepare the Alpha for a second round.

He looked away again, ashamed.

“But the chemical you used on me is still active. I can…I can kriffin feel the slick coming of…coming of my body. You don’t need another weapon when I will be ready to beg for you in a moment!” he snapped, preferring to attack instead of thinking about how it had felt, that cock in him, how being pounded had felt natural, even fulfilling.

“There are approximatively 200,000 Alpha clones of myself on Kamino right now. If you think I’m guilty of your present state, you’re free to go and try to get what you need from one of them!” Fett snapped in turn.

What a stupid, infuriating man! What sort of Alpha did he think he was, to accuse him of using some sort…some sort of rape drugs? Rather than wishing to tackle the problem of the mysterious new designation of the Jedi, because what had happened, if he wasn’t him poisoning him, as he knew it wasn’t, Jango went to the fresher….

No door, of course, he had forgotten that, Kenobi had made it explode. He took a rapid sonic, found a tunic and some pants, and contacted his son. Lama Su had apparently taken the boy to its own quarter and Boba was busy with his grammar homework. He was old enough to know a few things about biology and gender, but certainly not enough for sentences like ‘ _Your buir needed to pound that Jedi into the mattress_ ’ and Jango simply made sure the lad understood he hadn’t done anything wrong and wasn’t punished.

“Will you send me with the other clones now that the Jedi will decant you true children?”

Jango’s mind derailed.

“Where did you find that strange idea? You’re my son, I don’t need other. You will always be my son, regardless of circumstances. And Kenobi and I will not have children.”

“True?”

“I swear. Stay with Lama Su two days and after, we’ll leave Kamino for a few days. No mission, just travel and training. It’s time you learn to calculate hyperspace jumps.”

Boba’s smile grew, reassured, and he swore he would be a model guest for the Kaminoans and its mates. Jango placed an order for more food in the automatic delivery service and went in search of the Jedi.

That infuriating idiot was still on the bed. Of course he hadn’t drink anything and heat had risen again. He was on the back, trying desperately to quench the desire burning with two fingers, probably all he could put into himself in his position.

Jango would have grown hard the rest of the way with that view, if there hadn’t been the tears of frustration and the small, desperate sounds.

He joined him on the bed, throwing his clothes on the floor. Kenobi’s mouth was here, red from their kisses in their first coupling and he didn’t think, simply kissed him again and the Omega surged against him, answering with hunger.

“Idiot.” He said, when he taken his fill of the warm mouth, and in his tone, it sounded almost like a pet name.

He stroked Kenobi’s hand.

“Can you take it out?”

“So empty…”

“I know. I will give you what you need. Take a long breath. You’re doing so good. I know it’s strange…”

Kenobi, with a sob, took his two fingers out and Jango immediately penetrated him with two of his own, scissoring, targeting the prostate.

“Good?”

“More…” Kenobi said, after a few seconds and he was more present that the first time, his body in turn relaxing and tensing, his gaze hiding from Jango. The Alpha kneaded Kenobi’s ass with his other hand.

“Look at me.”

“No, thank you.” Kenobi said, strangely polite with two fingers up his ass, and Jango retaliated in giving him a third, earning a groan. He used his knees to open more Kenobi’s legs.

“How about you don’t try to make that as miserable as you can for you? You’re in heat, no idea why, but it won’t go away because you wish it.”

He leaned down and licked a broad stripe on a nipple to emphasise it. They were so sensitive, as only in omega. He was rubbing firmly against the prostate of his lover, but Kenobi was still looking at the wall with stubbornness.

Jango slid his fingers out. He really didn’t like feeling like that, like he was taking advantage.

“No!” Kenobi surged against him and Jango felt a moment of pity. How would he react if his body betrayed him like that? He kissed him again, and this time it was violent, almost an attack, he kissed him again and again, weighing on him until finally, after half an eternity, Kenobi relaxed.

“No mating.” Jango swore. “But it don’t mean I can’t make it feel good. You’re not the first Omega I help to pass his or her heat.” He pushed his hard cock against Kenobi’s hips.

“I want to fill you up. I want to fuck you until I knot you, and then I want to sleep and to do it again. I want to give you what you need. Nothing more complicated.”

And Kenobi, after a moment of hesitation, put his head against the pillow again. All his body was blushing and his eyes were becoming glazed. It was clear he was at the end of his endurance against the surge of the heat. Jango slipped again two fingers into him and Kenobi gave a murmur of frustration.

“Soon.” Jango encouraged. “Just a little patience. I don’t want to tear you. You’re so wet and open, you’re doing beautifully Good Omega, sweet thing, you will take my knot perfectly. Good, so good, you’re doing so well.”

And like the first time, it seemed to help, Kenobi relaxing under the words. Jango used the occasion to slip two more and Kenobi had an overwhelmed moan of need.

“I will be so deep inside you. Just a little more, sweet-thing.” He took his fingers out, turned him onto his knees and Kenobi, by instinct, put his hands onto the headboard, offering more stability when Jango mounted him, taking him in one swift, hard, push.

“Good.” Jango growled. “Keep them there.” And he took him sharply, more hard that he had dare the first time, encouraged by the sweet moans. Kenobi was impossibly slick and warm, his body welcoming his cock like it was made for that. When Jango kissed his neck, right over the gland, Kenobi wailed, a sound of broken pleasure.

“Alpha! Alpha….”

“Take it.” Jango panted. “Omega, yes, like that. Perfect. Gonna knot you so hard. Fill you, let you wet and open.”

And the Omega, this sweet-scented creature, keened again, a sound as old as Omega and Alpha were.

“My name.” Jango grunted. “Say my name…”

“Jango. Jangojangojango…” The knot grew and with almost a howl, Jango emptied himself in the Omega. As the last time, the sensation pushed the Omega into pleasure and he followed him.

Two times, and the stress of the unknown, was their limit: they only had the energy to shift on their side, panting. Thirty seconds after, they were sleeping, still tied.


	7. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

****

Seven years ago, Boba was the only being in the galaxy whose fate really interested Jango. Now, as he listened to his son listing small changes in their community, he was forced to admit it: he was part of the biggest pack in the galaxy, so big he didn’t know all the members.

Oh, he didn’t like all of them, some he even disliked, but they were his, to the last Jedi, even Windu, even Yoda that, thanks to all the Gods in the galaxy, had been too old to present and was now very happy caring for children in the Crèche and not preaching stupid things like non-attachment. He would kill without hesitation to protect them and it wasn’t only to please his mate. He had, in fact, killed, to protect that pack and with a grim satisfaction.

They were _his_.

“I’m supposed to go to the Crèche.” Boba excused himself after a time: “I promised to teach self-defence to the six years old group.” He gave Jango one last hug.

“I will come to your quarters with mid meal tomorrow and bring the pups from the Crèche.”

“You could come tonight.”

“Yes, and you would only half listen to the conversation and I would need to distract them from the fact that you answer totally wrong to their questions because you’re thinking of bending their Omega parent on the sofa ….No, better to let Obi-Wan and you the time to get it out of your system.”

Then, very loudly:

“Master Gallia, if I took the pups before you traumatized them?”

And Jango suddenly realized how strong the scent was in the air. Like all unmated Alpha, Boba had a better sense of smell.

His son left with the pups of Gallia and Fox, and with a laugh, and Jango stayed a few minutes, observing the work in the room. His pack was strong and hardworking, built to endure centuries and it pleased him to see them like that. Clones of a Mandalorian and Jedi, who knew they would make such a good mix? And the pups…The older were the first litter Obi-Wan had given him, five strong Force Sensitive, three girls and two boys, six years old now, and every day they became stronger, smarter, and more dangerous, as it was logical with their blood.

When he finally passed in front of the first nook to leave, he saw that they had put the curtain giving them a little privacy, but not very well, letting him see inside. Fox had Adi on her back on the large bench and he leaned on her, suckling at her full breasts. She had lost her pants too and her mate had four fingers working her with a wet sound, almost covering her low keening. Jango saw Fox work his thumb into her too, closing his hand in a fist, and pitching a large brown nipple with his other hand. She was smelling very sweet, almost a pre-heat scent, and Jango was sure they would soon seclude themselves for the time Fox would need to put a few more pups in her belly.

Jango closed the curtain better and he left the tactical center with a smile. Obi-Wan’ womb hadn’t quicken with his seed in the first heat they had shared, of course, not with the shoot, but two month after, his body had gone into heat again, and that time, Jango had mated and breeded him, very thoroughly. Good memories, but not as good as the third heat, six months after the birth of their first litter. There was something about breeding a lactating Omega, about knotting him and drinking from him at the same time, about pushing into him, knowing he would quicken from the seed, and seeing at the same time milk leaking, seeing that fertility. Even the pump Obi-Wan used, to provide for their litter in the Crèche, aroused Jango at those times and the Jedi had spent so much time onto his knees on the bed getting filled by his Alpha’s knot and the machine pumping his milk at the same time, or on his knees on the plush carpet, whining around Jango’s cock, a plug in his sweet hole and the pump on his chest....

With a smile, Jango entered the hallways again. Fox was a good vod and he had a very good few days ahead of him, and Gallia was one of the most likeable Councillor in his opinion. Their first litters gave strong, healthy pups and all those they would have now would be too, strong addition to the pack.

He wished them a happy heat, like and Obi-Wan and him had shared every time, even that first time, as complicated as it had been


	8. Year 978 after the Ruusan Reformation

It was the thirst that had woken up Obi-Wan. Fett and he had separated in their sleep and he searched as silently as possible for the electrolytes drink the Alpha had tossed him a few hours before. The other man moved, grumbling, and Obi-Wan, after a second, pushed a sleep suggestion on him. Not very polite, but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t right now, be in the same room as someone else looking at him.

He drunk everything in one go and then groped for his clothes on the floor. In a pile, they hadn’t dried and were still wet from their tumble in the fresher. He renounced and, after a second of hesitation, took on the floor the tunic and pants that Fett had thrown of when he has joined him on the bed for their second coupling.

On the bed, the Alpha was sleeping on his back, like he hadn’t a care in the world, like there wasn’t a Jedi in his bedroom that had just played with his brain. He was compact, muscular, with a few scars and Obi-Wan had a flashback of those muscles weighing on his back, of the power that was behind the other man’s thrusts. Silently, he left the bedroom. In the fresher, he was more thorough that he had ever been, doing his best to clean himself of every trace of their activities but when he dressed in the borrowed clothes, he could already fell he was starting to slick again.

No need to refuse the truth: he was an Omega. He hadn’t felt duplicity in Fett when the other man had sworn the shoot was a contraceptive and he hoped it was an efficient one, what a mess it already was without that. He put his hand on his flat chest, descended on his belly, trying to imagine himself full of milk for Fett’s pups. Trying to imagine himself waddling, weighted down by a litter. How many? He was in good form, young enough, a human male Omega in his position rarely had litters smaller than three.

Three, perhaps four pups, perhaps even more in his belly… How would that feel? To feel them growing inside himself, people seeing his belly and knowing he had submitted, opened his legs…Fett had a son, he probably liked children, would he put his hands on Obi-Wan’s belly and fell proud, possessive?

By the Force, what was he thinking?

It was the heat affecting his brain!

With a frown, he left the fresher. He was too far away from Coruscant to contact the Council without going to his ship to send the message and then someone relaying his signal and he wasn’t exactly happy at the idea to go in the hallways like that. He was in heat and in the city, there were a lot of unknown Alpha. He was self-aware enough to understand Fett had been as….as gentlemanly as he could, even if it was strange to use that term for a bounty hunter. He didn’t remember exactly everything, but he remembered reassurance, careful preparation, and so much pleasure. When he had checked himself with the Force, he hadn’t been torn, simply muscles sensitive from being opened by…by a knot.

No, he had no intention to go out those rooms to take risks with unknown Alpha.

Fett was safe and helping him, and that made what he would do in that instant wrong, duty or not. His brain seemed slower and he draw heavily on the Force to sustain himself. He seated himself in front of Fett’s comm unit. The bounty hunter personal com probably were encrypted, but this one? In the room he shared with his son only, on a hidden planet? They were probably only child-proof, to be sure Boba wouldn’t see unsavoury things on the holonet.

Two minutes after, Obi-Wan had sliced inside the thing and was sending an encrypted message to Adi Gallia’s personal com, the only of the Council he knew the number of. Something was very wrong in this story and he hoped it would be more discreet that contacting the Council directly. His message was short, to be sure it wouldn’t be remarked by an eventual surveillance. Just a coded message asking for reinforcement, from the Council itself.

The Masters of the High Council that would come would know what to do about the clones and that complot.

He turned off the comm. He could feel his temperature increasing and the slick smearing the pants. The heat was reaching another peak and even drawing on the Force didn’t help.

He went to the room, trying to push into the Force the impression that he had just betrayed the Alpha. He would…he would tell to Judicials Fett had helped with his investigation. Plead for a light sentence, perhaps only electronically monitored house arrest or community service, to be sure father and son wouldn’t be separated.

Fett was still sleeping. He took the pants off, the tunic, climbed on the bed. The two times, Fett had initiated their couplings, but he had called him an idiot when Obi-Wan had tried to quench the heat alone, he wouldn’t be angry if….

Obi-Wan put his hand on a shoulder and Fett rolled over, opened his eyes.

He didn’t make him beg. He didn’t force him to ask. He simply pulled Obi-Wan to him and kissed him, rolling over him, covering him in his solid weigh.

Giving him what he needed.

Obi-Wan’s mind went back to the message he had just sent and something tightened in his chest.

Then, there was only pleasure, as Fett took him again, face to face this time, covering his throat with kisses and small bites. Obi-Wan clung to the large shoulders and didn’t even realize when he called Jango’s name without prompting. And when the knot formed, pushing him into orgasm, he searched Jango’s mouth to share an exhausted kiss.

 


	9. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

Jango decided to take a short cut to their quarters in crossing one of the garden. There were now thirty gigantic greenhouses on Kamino, the first one installed by the Jedi only one month after the decision to stay had been made. Some were destined to grow vegetables, some were for family, for the younglings, some existed only because Jedi didn’t imagine life as in a sterile environment like Kamino had been before them. Some were small, only designed to hold ten people at the same time, some could hold half the Jedi and some clones, some reproduced tropical forest, some were misty…all of them were bursting with plants.

But that one? That one was Jango’s favourite, one of the warmest, nested in the adult Jedi quarters. Here only mated clones and Jedi went and he and Obi-Wan had enjoyed too, multiple times, the small pools, the nooks of vegetation, the sound of running water, the large benches of pillows…He had so much great memories here.

From all the changes that had been made to Kamino, it was the best in his mind. Because it was the sign of the moment the Jedi had made Kamino, from refuge in the short war, to the home that it was now. The moment they had renounced to go back to Coruscant, now that the Sith was dead and instead of transferring again Younglings, Knights and Masters, they had send a team to collect the archives that, heartsick about it, they had been obligated to abandon when they had left in a hurry. He left the bare hallways for the light coming for the high canopy of durasteel and reinforced glass, the scent of salt for the ones of grass and earth. Insects and birds had been imported, there were fishes in some of the pool, and so, so much plants that he couldn’t identify. Jedi all loved working here, coming back with soil on their hands and smiles on their faces.

He saluted three vode, took the path of brown and blue mosaic, turned around some sort of big tree with a trunk covered of moss and couldn’t repress a smile. Around one of the small pool, Sar Labooda and Depa Billaba were peacefully sharing a moment with their mates. He interacted with Depa as a Councillor but he didn’t really knew her personally, but Sar had been his first Jedi’s friend, if you didn’t count Obi-Wan, who was a very, very special case in his eyes. He had saved her life on Genosis, seven years ago, and they had fought back to back in a difficult battle, and it seemed half a lifetime ago sometimes, for how both their worlds had changed.

She was sleeping on a large couch full of pillow next to the small pool, her black hair free on one of her two mate’s back, a brother named Big-mouth, She was as naked as he was and Jango could see the scars on her arm from that day, half faded, but it seemed unimportant when you saw her belly, round and swollen, and her full breasts. She was as golden and ripe as a Naboo’s fruit, a picture of health and fertility that would have made Alpha all over the galaxy smile, if they were nice people, or intrigue to have her, if they were jerks. Jango had with years acquired an eye for evaluating pregnancy, a talent he never thought he would have, and he already knew she was waiting twins, and that look was enough to tell him she was nearing term. Next to them, her other mate, Soot, was reading a datapad and gave Jango a little nod, supremely unbothered that his template was seeing the scene and the nudity. The clones hadn’t had experience of what was considered private or not in term of nudity and sexuality before meeting the first Jedi and had taken their clues from them…at the same time that the former Null Jedi transposed to the physical plan what had been their closeness in the Force. Here, in the private greenhouse, Jango would have bet he was one of the only being with clothes on!

In the pool next to the three other, the brother named Styles had Depa across his lap, rubbing his hands over her belly, smaller than her sister’s, she was probably only in her second trimester, and Grey, as naked as all the other, was busy drinking from her, making her moan. Jango passed into another small nook of green, amused to see he wasn’t the only one to find the lactation of their omega irresistible. He still heard the voice of Depa, a needy keen, and two answering growls, and was sure that in less than a few minutes, one of them would push into her to the hilt and he understood the urge, to pump into an already pregnant mate until his or her sweet hole was leaking seed, marking them as surely as the mating scar.

To be honest, there weren’t so many times when he hadn’t wanted to take his Omega until Obi-Wan was dripping of his semen, even all those years ago when he wanted also to never see him again.


	10. Year 978 after the Ruusan Reformation

There was a Jedi in Jango' s kitchen, wearing Jango's clothes, and with a scent that made Jango wants to have him across his lap to feed him himself, to nuzzle his neck and perhaps to bent him over the table after, or to push a thumb in his mouth, to see if it was as good as he thought it would be...

That was the heat talking and he knew it but it didn't change his gut feeling.

The cooker biped and he took the cubes of tubers in it to put them on the table. Easy to eat, bland, his experience with Omega had taught him it was probably the only thing Kenobi could stomach now. He saw the Jedi moving on his seat with a grimace.

«Did I hurt you? »

«No, it's...the slick. It's a strange feeling.»

« I remember other Omega whose heats I shared. They used plugs between couplings, you should buy one before your next heat.»

He saw Kenobi blush and wisely didn't say anything about it.

They ate in silence but it wasn't uncomfortable, they were simply hungry. Kenobi seemed finally resigned to wait it out and if it wasn't exactly the enjoyment he had known some Omega to have of their heat, it was better that when the Jedi had almost let his brain cook in his skull in refusing the heat. Kenobi ate his part with neat, proper manners more made to a coronation banquet that a meal post fucking and Jango could almost see the knots forming in his shoulders. Kenobi was clearly going to be of no use about keeping himself in good form in this heat and an Omega leaving heat in bad shape was terrible for an Alpha.

That’s why Jango had the idea of the bath. Kenobi eyed it with suspicion when he saw it, emerging from the wall of the fresher and already filling.

« Don't tell me Jedi don't take baths.»

«The amphibious one do. There is not bath in the freshers of the quarters of the human ones. It would be frivolous... »

«Stars, you really are a strange bunch.»

«It doesn't seemed very efficient either and you are an efficient man, Fett.»

«I'm a simple, efficient, man but I'm smart enough to recognize the benefice of a good soak when the muscles are knotted. And well...five hours, three couplings. I will mount you a lot in the thirty-five to come. A good bath now when we can...»

«It's more a pool than a bath. » Kenobi grumbled but he entered it.

The noise he made when he was submerged to the shoulder was sinful, litteraly and Jango felt himself hardening.

«I'm vexed. » the Alpha quipped, joining him in water on the other side of the bath, « I didn't earn such noise.»

He saw Kenobi trying to resist but, as Jango was learning, he wasn't the sort of man who was really successful shutting up. He probably would sass his own firing squad!

« You have more than thirty hours to try harder. » the Jedi said, red on his cheeks, but something like a challenge in his voice. Jango smirked and took Kenobi’s foot in his hands. The other had a knee reaction and almost kicked him in the nose until he reigned it, but he didn’t try to stop Jango when he pushed his thumbs into the arch of his foot, making him groan.

“Is …is the massage included in the standard procedure?”. He was probably trying for cavalier disdain, but apparently Jango’s thumbs had a better success that Jango’s previous efforts with his dick to make him relax. Vexing.

“Well, it should. Every Alpha that tell you that only the knots taken count is an idiot. If your muscles are already jelly, it’s easier for both of us, your body will need it less time.”

““Rather astute of you. **_Oh Force_** , right here. Harder.”

“See what I mean.”

“Stop smirking, you insufferable Alpha.”

The Omega was apparently trying to cling to his stress, so it was slow going but, minutes after minutes, Jango saw the effects of the warm water and his massage, switching from one foot to another.

“You said I wasn’t the first Omega…” Kenobi remarked after a time, trying and failing to look unaffected. He had begun to flush again and would probably need it soon.

“Well, Omega…born-Omega, those I’ve known, they feel more comfortable to pass the heat with an Alpha than with suppressors. With the shoot, you can be sure the Alpha won’t lose his head and bite the mating gland, and everyone can have a good time.”

He pushed his thumb harder, earning another very interesting noise.

“Are you having such a bad time?” Kenobi opened an eye to glare at him, but it wasn’t exactly very threatening, naked and with his sweet scent…

“I’m not supposed to have a time like that, bad or good. And the lack of control…”

“Well, at every peak, the heat is asking for the lack of control. For a weight on you. But you’re not here right now. Come here.” He used the foot and the boneless state of Kenobi to pull the Jedi to him.

“What are you…Oh.” Kenobi was now straddling him and for the first time, Jango observed how beautiful his eyes were and how the freckles seemed to attract kisses. Had Kenobi always been so pretty?

“I don’t…” Another noise when Jango caressed his rear.

“You’re not desperate for me to throw you on the nearest flat surface and mount you, no. That means that you can have control right now. Or as much as the heat let you…” Kenobi whimpered.

“You’re terribly unhelpful at letting me use my brain again.”

“You’re in heat. Your brain is supposed to let your body take the wheel, and swim in hormones.”

He caressed the Jedi’s ass again. All this jumping unsuspecting and totally innocent body hunters had formed it into a fine example. Kenobi keened under the sensation and moved across Jango’s lap. Jango grinned.

“I should slap you.” Kenobi rolled his eyes but he didn’t seem to find the idea so bad, and he leaned down and kissed Jango.

Without the desperation, the softness of his mouth seemed more dangerous and Jango gripped his ass again to stop it from becoming too loving, and soon he couldn’t think of anything but the skin under his hands and the hips undulating as the Jedi took him in him, impaling himself on Jango’s cock with a small sight. It was slow and he let the Omega set the pace, blood pounding in his ears as Kenobi’s scent become sweeter under the pleasure.

It wasn’t as satisfying as pounding the keening Omega but the view largely compensate, and it lasted a small eternity with just the sound of the water and the low noises of pleasure, until the heat rose again, strong, demanding. Jango swore, Kenobi keened, all rhythm lost, and the bounty hunter disengaged, provoking a desperate moan, scrambled until he succeed in bending a trashing, keening, Kenobi on the side of the bath and took him again, pinning him down. He drove into him wildly and Kenobi chanted his name, and then only small grunts of overwhelmed pleasure as the rest of his lucidity was lost to the heat and he was delirious with need. Jango rutted roughly into the Omega, praising him in small, broken sentences, for his scent, his sweet hole, his submission, until it was too much and his knot grew, deep into the body under his, forcing his orgasm and Kenobi’s.


	11. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

Jango moved in the gardens, taking the shortest path to their quarters. He could see glimpses, here and here, of Jedi and their lovers. He saw Bly and Aayla, he saw Tup and his two mates Tiplee and Tiplar, and then Master Unduli, one of the only Jedi that really impressed him, and her mate, a vod named Gree. There was also Eeth Koth and Lock, and, what was his name, Kolar, and a lot of other Jedi…Jango heard a lot of laughs, a lot of moans. His pack was happy, healthy, growing every day, and the Alpha in him was quietly rumbling of pride.

All Jedi old enough to present, minus a few exceptions of the ones that were ‘too old for all of that naked nonsense’ in Jocasta Nu’s words. And all Omega Jedi with no exception, had mated with clones. Sometimes one. Sometimes several.

It seemed there were no rules except the extreme compatibility between their two groups. Ki-Adi-Mundi, the only Jedi married before all of this, had himself presented as an Omega, and mated with a clone named Jet. His five wives had come to Kamino and too be honest, Jango wasn’t exactly sure how it worked and wasn’t interested to know, but now Jet had six mates, and kept all of them happy and pregnant, especially since the Cerean’s specie was on the verge of extinction because only girls were born, and those seven seemed only capable of having sons from Jet’s seed. The seven girls Ki-Adi-Mundi had had from his wives before had come to Kamino too, already adults, had married brothers….and seemed determined to have only sons too. Yes, apparently the Force thought you could solve a lot of problems with only a slight gender modification in the Jedi and the Cerean’s extinction was on its list. They didn’t live in that part of the city, but in the others, with settlers, unmated clones, and the clones who had mated with people other than Jedi and lived on Kamino. They were too much clones for all of them to find a Jedi’s mate and Jango had feared for a time it would cause tension, before the first vode finding mates elsewhere.

No, in that part, there was only one being that wasn’t a brother or a Jedi and, just before leaving the gardens, Jango saw her with her mates. He had told Obi-Wan he had knew other Omega before him, but it had still been awkward when a brother named Jangotat had come back from a mission with Kit Fisto mated not only to the Jedi, but also to Jango’s former lover, Sheeka Tull. That awkwardness hadn’t lasted, thank the Stars, Obi-Wan and Jango were happy, and Jangotat, Kit and Sheeka were too. She had given fives pups, in two litters, to Jangotat, and never once Jango had regretted that they weren’t his pups.

In that glimpse, in the last pool, Jango saw the Nautolan moving in the water, impossibly graceful despite a round belly. On the side of the pool, Jangotat was sitting observing him with a half-smile, and Sheeka was eating a fruit, as naked as the other two, perfectly integrated and happy in their pack.

He was hard when he left the garden, half from the happiness of his pack, half of the things he had glimpsed. It had been teen days since he had seen his mate in person; way too long, and his steps were growing quicker in the hallways until finally, finally… The door opened.

Obi-Wan was working on a datapad and Jango felt his breath caught. Seven years since their mating, fives pregnancies, fives healthy litters of pups strong in the Force, and Obi-Wan was glorious. He was only wearing pants and a light tunic, the quarters warm, and the way his body had changed was obvious. Oh, he was still muscular, more than the typical Omega, but there was weigh on his chest, because he was still nursing three litters, because that chest was full of milk for Jango’s pups, his hips were larger, his whole body softer. His belly wasn’t flat anymore; there was never enough time between two pregnancies for him to lose that weight, not that he really tried, and Jango adored that. Their last litter was four months old and the Alpha couldn’t wait until the next heat, before his Omega started to go round again from his seed. On his neck, for everyone to see, there was the mating scar, just below the tips of the red hair that Jango liked to mess so much, or to seize to guide that beautiful mouth on his cock. He was glorious, perfect, _Jango’s_.

And when he had heard the door, he turned his head, saw his mate, coming back early from mission, and he abandoned the datapad and threw himself into his arms.


	12. Year 978 after the Ruusan Reformation

Jango had lost count of how many times he had mounted Kenobi somewhere after the twelfth time. He had rutted into that tight, wet heat, again and again, he had knotted him and then slept and done it again, the Jedi submitting and keening, pliant, warm, sweet and perfect. He had fucked him senseless on the bed, on the floor, against the couch once. He had filled him with seed and kissed his neck, just next to the gland, and never once had Kenobi protested, offering himself, limped and submissive, only whining for more, finally trusting Jango’s words that he was safe, that he wouldn’t bite.

Kenobi has offered himself to pleasure and he had been glorious in it, mounted, face down, an Alpha’s weight on him, or sometimes on his back, opening himself, everything for Jango to see and take. The shoot had preserved Jango’s sanity, that didn’t mean that sometimes…When he was knot-deep in the other man, his cock milked by that sweet-scented, beautiful creature, he didn’t let himself fantasies for a few instants, his hand wide on Kenobi’s belly.

They had slept again and when Jango had woken up, the bed was empty and the scent in the room was of sex, but also the slightly sour scent of a heat done. He turned on the bed, glimpsing the holoclock on the bedside. Forty-five hours. He was fertile again and Kenobi wasn’t in heat anymore. The Jedi was standing in front of the window, observing a storm. He had showered, his hair still wet, darker for it, but he was only wearing one of Jango’s tunic, which covered him slightly below the ass, letting his legs nude. The lights were out in the bedroom and the only lights were the one from the lightning. Jango felt something constricted in his chest. He didn’t want it to be over. Not so fast. He stood up, naked, joined him, stopping just behind.

“How thorough was your shower?”

He saw Kenobi’s surprised expression in the reflection but the Jedi answered.

“Very. Why?”

Jango knelt. He felt Kenobi move, surprised again.

“No.” He said, low, “Tell me if you don’t want. If you don’t like. But don’t ask questions. Please.”

Kenobi stayed silent and Jango seized the edge of the tunic, pushed it higher, and kissed that beautiful ass. There was a slight bruise where he had gripped too hard when he trusted into him, and he kissed it too. Kenobi’s breath was quicker but he stayed silent. Jango nudged his legs and the Jedi obeyed, opened them, his hands on the cool glass for balance. Jango caressed the firm ass again, then spread him wide and, without a second hesitation, went to kiss, caress, eating him out like he was starving.

It was different from everything that had happened before. It wasn’t Jango mounting Kenobi to save his brain. It was Jango offering pleasure and Kenobi accepting it. It wasn’t even a coupling, not in the traditional sense that Omega needed in heat. It was just sex, simply pleasure between two consenting adults.

“Jango.” Kenobi sighted against the glass, slightly rocking in the sensation, between the cold of the window against his skin and the warm of the body behind him. It felt more intimate that everything and the pleasure was taking him apart. There was no justification, not like before, but it felt incredible and he didn’t want it to stop, he didn’t want to go back to being enemy, not when the other man had been warm and welcoming and protective and had given him so much pleasure. He whined lowly, let the window have more of his weight. Fett had…Jango had kept him on edge a small eternity and now he was easing a finger into him, pressing on his prostate and Obi-Wan came on the glass with no more than a sigh.

His legs felt weak and he let Jango guide him to the bed to sit down. The Alpha was hard and he pushed him until he was in the middle of the bed and then went to caress his cock.

“Kenobi, there is no obligation. I did that because I wanted to.”

“Obi-Wan.” It seemed suddenly important to have him call his name.

“Obi-Wan.” Jango repeated obediently and Obi-Wan took his cock in his mouth without more preliminary, making him swore. It was a legend that the Nulls were totally without sex drive. Yes, they were definitely less interested but that didn’t stop teenage curiosity.

But that…wrapping his mouth around Jango’s cock was different from teenage fumbling with Quinlan. The weight on his tongue made him moan and Jango had an instinctive thrust in answer, making him cough.

“Sorry. Sorry.” The bounty hunter immediately said.

“No. Just…it’s been long.”

Jango observed his face in silence, with that bird of prey’s gaze he had, and then, slowly, like he tested his reactions to it, he passed his hand in his hair. Obi-Wan felt like purring under the petting and he let the hand guide him. He opened his lips again, licked the head of the cock, and felt the second hand join the first in his hair. He didn’t feel uncomfortable. Not one second. The Alpha had proved himself, he wouldn’t hurt him.

Jango’s hands guided him, firm and warm, and he took the hard cock in his mouth again, closing his eyes, abandoned in his trust. The Alpha used his mouth carefully and the sensation made something in Obi-Wan clench, craving already at the idea that it was the last time. He felt his throat open and he moaned again. The knot, when it came, was too large to keep in his mouth when it was the first time he pleased an Alpha like that, but he caressed it with his hand, his mouth around the head, swallowing again and again as the long orgasm of an Alpha passed. The seed was bitter but he shivered at the idea that he would have a full belly of it. For a second, he asked himself how it would be, how it would feel, if the Alpha had marked him, coming onto his face or his body, then he let Jango pull him to him, kiss him slowly and they found sleep again.

When Jango woke up again, he was alone. Again. Obi-Wan wasn’t at the window that time but at the door, observing him, slightly pale. He had put his own clothes again, to the cloak, hiding himself in the careful folds of the uniform.

He wasn’t seeing Obi-Wan, the pliant, warm, sweet Omega.

He was seeing Jedi Knight Kenobi, of the Jedi Order.

The scent, the scent only, betrayed his change. It was sweet, potent, calling to Jango, even now.

Jango swallowed.

You could stop a Jedi, of course, but it was not an easy task, especially naked as he was now. And to stop a Jedi, to stop the power that was crackling under their skin, you needed to hurt them pretty bad, pretty fast, almost cripple them.

He wasn’t sure he had it in him to maim Obi-Wan like that.

Then Obi-Wan opened his mouth.

“You need to take Boba and run.”

“What?” Perhaps not his better reply but he had just woken up. He sit down, put his feet on the floor and he saw Obi-Wan took a step back, like in fear.

“You need to take your son and disappear. In the Outer Rim. Perhaps in the Unknown Regions if you can. As fast, as far as you can.”

Jango saw the Jedi swallow, then Obi-Wan spoke again, low, very low, as he couldn’t believe he was telling him.

“The Jedi are coming.”


	13. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

They didn’t even went further that the couch. It was too long since the last time they had seen each other, the kisses too sweet and deep, the joy of their reunion too intense. Obi-Wan’s fingers were as skilful as Jango’s own to undo the clasps of the armour, his smiles so full of happiness to see him almost three days earlier than he thought…Jango kissed him, again and again and again, as pieces of the armour fell on the floor, then his clothes and Obi-Wan’s. He had commed him every day, twice a day most of the time, and he loved hearing his voice, or the dirty calls they sometimes had; but it wasn’t the same.

It wasn’t the same thing that the delightful noise his mate made when he bit him lightly just behind the ear, it wasn’t the same thing that the skin warm and soft under his hands, or the same as the scent, sweet, tantalizing, a scent that spoke of fertility, pack, of joy and pleasure.

He tumbled him on the couch, bit his throat to make him moan, covering him and groaning himself when their cocks pushed against each other, when he scented the slick that was already coming. His fingers pressed in between Obi-Wan’s legs. The Omega was already so slick. When he remembered their first time, the way he had to coax Obi-Wan’s body to cooperation, even in heat, to be sure he wouldn’t hurt him, and now his own scent was enough to make the other man so slick and so open, that  could push almost three fingers here right now without trouble.

“My Alpha…” Obi-Wan purred, his eyes clear and happy and his expression so full of love. What had he done, for that wonderful creature to look at him that way, for that sweet-scented, beautiful Omega to wear his mating scar with pride and to give him litters after litters?

“Ner Omega.” He crooned and his heart did a strange little jump in his chest when Obi-Wan keened at the word, pushing his head into the couch’s pillows to expose his throat.

Rumbling low, he went to kiss it again, his teeth on his skin to hear him whine from pleasure, licking the Adam’s apple, then he went to kiss red mouth and Obi-Wan yielded to him, throwing a leg around his hips, keening low. Jango went to the chest, his tongue lapping at a nipple, then his whole mouth coming to play. Obi-Wan’s nails were hard against his neck, the action making his mate wail. Milk was already there, never had his Omega lacked it, a captivating picture of fertility. It had become a turn on for the Jedi, for the two of them. A man who had once rejected his new found Omega identity now went crazy every time Jango drank from him. And drink he did, alternating between the two nipples, relishing in the act. That was his Omega, his, full of milk because he was nursing theirs pups, the beautiful pups that Jango had planted in his belly. Below him, his mate had started panting and when Jango stopped, his cock too hard to be ignored anymore, Obi-Wan’s longing made his eyes almost black.

His fingers rubbed against the sweet hole leaking slick, then he pressed one of them into that heat, still awestruck of the slick, the scent. He had taken Obi-Wan hundreds of time. It had been tender, shameless, it had been here, it had been in the gardens, it had been sometimes almost violent, sometimes so slow it seemed they could stay joined eternally. He would take him hundreds of time before the end of their lives but never would he be something other than astonished by it.

Obi-Wan had taken his knees in his hands, arching in Jango’s weight, opening himself to his gaze and hands, and every knuckles and fingers he gave him earned a sweet begging for more. He stopped at four fingers, making him protest, but he swallowed those words just on his lips, and made him turn.

“Later”. He swore. “I want you on my knot right now. But yes, don’t think you’ll leave before you’re so open you’re leaking my seed. My knot, my fist. Know you’re empty, take good care of you” And Obi-Wan moaned, laughed.

“You always take good care of me.” He whispered and there was so much trust in his voice.

Jango loved mounting him in the classic presentation pose but after so long, he wanted a way to kiss him at the same time, and he took him against the backrest of the couch, kneeling behind him, Obi-Wan pushing back against him with every thrust. He couldn’t rut in him with the same power that in the more traditional position but it was easier to kiss his shoulder, nibbling at his mating scar, and to exchange long kisses that became shorter when he thrusted more roughly in him, just before the knot caught.

“Ner Omega.” He whispered, against red hair, “My mate, my beautiful mate. Gonna knot you. Stuff you full of pups. That’s it. Open yourself. Beautiful. Mine, my mate.” And Obi-Wan wailed and keened, pinned by hard muscles, asking for more, for deeper, for harder, his voice breaking when the knot pushed him into orgasm. Supported by the backrest, tied to his Alpha by the knot, pulsing deep in him, he turned his head and stole another kiss from panting lips.

“Welcome home.” He said, breathless.


	14. Year 978 after the Ruusan Reformation

Jango left Kamino with Boba exactly twenty minutes after Obi-Wan’s warning. He wasn’t stupid enough to go against a strike team of Jedi Masters, perhaps even Masters of the Council. Not when Boba needed him. He would perhaps kill two, three, and then what? Let Boba an orphan?

No, he had dressed without showering, thrown in a bag Boba’s favourite toys and abandoned everything he possessed, leaving with only his armour on his back.

When he had come back from Lama Su’s apartment, his son in his arms, Obi-Wan had been on the landing pad, seeming lost in the folds of his cloak and the bounty hunter had felt a jolt of guilt, to let him face alone what was to come.

“How will you justify my absence to them? Your sudden omega-ness will be suspicious enough. And you smell too much of a satisfied heat.” Jango had asked and the other man had seem surprised.

“I have no intention to lie to my brethren.”

Jango was baffled, almost thought he hadn’t understood and then, just to be sure he wasn’t suddenly suffering from auditory hallucinations, he asked:  

“You will tell them you advised me to run.”

“Of course. I’m not in the habits to lie in my reports.”

 “And for the heat?”

Obi-Wan blushed like a rising sun, making Jango wished he could follow that colour under the clothes, see how much of that fair skin it was exactly covering. Even exasperating, the Jedi had something that made the Alpha in him quietly rumble.

“Well, I have no intention to lie, there either.” Obi-Wan answered, his Coruscanti accent more pronounced, more Jedi than ever.

Jango felt a headache beginning to bloom behind his forehead. Without a word, he entered _Slave I_ , put his son in the cockpit. Boba was silent, even if he certainly perceived his father’s tension and pride warmed Jango’s heart. He ruffled his son’s hair, put the bag with Boba’s stuff in a magnetized chest, and then turned to him again.

“Can you begin the pre-fly check for me?”

“Yes, _buir_.”

“Very good.” He kissed his forehead.

“I’m here in a minute.”

Obi-Wan was still under the rain, his face stony, but the distress in his scent betrayed him, letting every one with a nose, or an organ with the same function, know of the misery he was feeling. Jango joined him, helmet under his arm.

 “Let me be sure I’ve understood everything. You will tell the other Jedi that you spend almost two days in my bed and then warned me of their arrival?”

Obi-Wan’s lips thinned and he didn’t answer. Jango had the sudden urge to bang his head against a wall and then he surprised himself.

“I will guarantee you safe passage.”

The Jedi’s gaze become more piercing, but he didn’t answer.

“I will fly you away to the world of your choice, free of charges. No tricks.”

“Oh I know.” Obi-Wan whispered, his composure suddenly becoming human again. He touched his cheek and it was so gentle that Jango didn’t knew how to react to the contact.

“I knew you would let me go safe where I would ask, I know you wouldn’t sell me, but I have no intention to leave the Order, and I will endure their sentences.” And then, surprising the Alpha, he kissed him. Not the chaste thing that he would have thought, but a deep hungry kiss, he kissed him like it was the last kiss ever, a kissed destined to warm him for the rest of his life.

“Go.” He said, something powerful in his voice, and Jango entered _Slave I_ again without really deciding it, as if his feet had taken the decision.

 “Where are we going?” Boba asked, once they were orbiting Kamino, probably for the last time.

“Genosis.” His father decided, and then he entered the coordinates. “But it will be only for a few hours. Check the data list, choose a world in the Outer Rim. We are taking the few days I promised you to teach you hyperspace travels.”

He tried to rejoice of his son’s pleasure but it was difficult. His contract was over, the clones would do their job, fight and die for the Republic. He would tell Dooku his job was finished and he wasn’t interested in more contracts for them, and then he would take Boba, far away.

Kriff the Jedi, kriff Kenobi, kriff the Sith and their everlasting war.

Kriff the idea that one day, the vode would accomplish their mission to the last quarters, kriff the idea that one day, the last thing Obi-Wan would see would be his murderer with Jango’s face.

He realized his teeth were so tight it was hurting and he made an effort for his voice to be normal when he repeated: “We’re going to Genosis.”

***

Obi-Wan stayed on the landing platform one hour, letting the cold rain wash him from the last days. He felt lost, a small part of him regretted having said no, but he was a Jedi. He would always be a Jedi, Omega or not, and even if he was expulsed from the Order, the only family he had known, his identity as a Jedi would stay written upon his heart.

A whisper in the Force. Jedi were in orbit. He perceived the presence of Kit Fisto and Adi Gallia, and another presence he didn't know but was a Jedi …and Mace Windu himself. Quietly, Obi-Wan went to his knees on the platform, in a position of penitence, and he waited for them.


	15. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

 

There was a Jedi in Jango' s kitchen, wearing Jango's clothes, and with a scent that made Jango wants to have him across his lap to feed him himself, to nuzzle his neck and perhaps to bent him over the table after, or to push a thumb in his mouth. But how things were different from the first time it had happened!

After their quick shower, Obi-Wan had put Jango’s tunic because he liked wearing his clothes, not because he had nothing else to wear, except wet Jedi uniform. And if sometimes he moved on his chair that was because he liked to feel the plug that Jango had fetched for him in their bedroom to stop slick and semen to drip on the chair, not because the slick was bothering him.

He had laughed when he had seen which one his mate had brought back from their small collection: the one Jango had melted and forged himself, made with the armor plate of a battle droid and with a priceless gem he had bought when he had been paid for bringing the Separatists leaders in.

All that would have taken his pack from him before its formation, melted and forged in a plug for his Omega to wear. Totally inappropriate, of course, so Jango loved the damn thing and Obi-Wan pretended not to and kissed Jango extra hard when the other man slipped it in him.

The bounty hunter had narrated to him the last episode of his mission to Bakura, where a man named Wilek Nereus had staged a coup and attempted to make for himself a small kingdom. He probably had thought that his world was so far away from the Core that the Republic wouldn’t care, but the Republic under Organa’s tutelage was a very different system from the broken thing that had limped to war those last hundred years.

“And then, he tried to buy me with priceless jewels and concubines.” Jango was finishing and Obi-Wan burst out laughing, almost dropping his mug of herbal tea.

“I’m telling the truth. How that man must be self-centred for not catching my very mated scent, I don’t know.” Jango picked another of that small fried Kamino-prawns he loved so much and dipped it in the sour sauce. His other hand was on Obi-Wan’s feet, which were on his lap, his thumb caressing the skin. Obi-Wan’s manners were still so nice he could have dinned with royalty, if you accepted the half-naked thing and the position of his feet on his lover’s lap, but the curve of his shoulders told a story of comfort, here, in that small kitchen, with the bounty hunter he loved and Jango felt something warm in his chest when he saw his eyes, full of light and joy.

Jango stood up to bring more tea to his lover then, hearing a small mewling noise in the interphone on the wall, he kissed Obi-Wan’s hair.

“I will bring them in the living room, make yourself comfortable on the couch.”

Every Jedi-clones mated pairs, or more than pairs, had it: a big nursery attached to their quarters. When the babies were big enough, between nine to eleven months, they were taken to the Creche with all the other younglings, but it was so easier in the first months of life for the Omega to nurse them at home. Jango had found it harder than Obi-Wan, when their first litter had go to the Creche. Obi-Wan was already pregnant again, sure, and Boba stayed with them, and the pups were only a few minutes travel from them, but still… The Jedi, raised that way, didn’t see the problem, and Jango quickly realised that the children lived it perfectly well, happy when Obi-Wan came to nurse them for every meal, happy when Jango came to them, and also happy to live with a bunch of other children, all of them Force Sensitives.

But he still loved when the nursery was occupied. He fetched, one of after the other, the triplets of their last litter, three little boys, beloved and cherished. From the corner of his eyes, he observed his mate nursing them with half a smile, cleaning his armour, putting it away, checking his comm. There was a small message of Cody, one of his second, which was presently leading a mission against the crime lords Hutts, another from the small settlement of clones they had on Malastare, and one from Dogma, the clones’ representative in the Senate. He answered two of them quickly, keep the other that wasn’t urgent, and went back to his mate.

Obi-Wan was still nursing the third pup and the view was just perfect. He loved that proof of fertility, the scent of milk, the quiet pleasure Obi-Wan took in providing for their children that way, and the enthusiasm of their son…They had never talked about stopping having litters after litters and he hope they could continue for long, on his cycle of heats and children…He couldn’t wait for the next heat, for those perfect days when only them and their love existed and Obi-Wan couldn’t have enough of his knot and of his seed deep into his sweet hole.

And he was growing hard again, just thinking about it…He went next to them, put his arm around his mate to better see the perfect scene.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered against the red hair and Obi-Wan had a shy smile, before turning his face for a kiss. Jango caressed a small forehead, already full of his dark hairs. The child’s eyes fixed on him but he didn’t stop drinking, his little mouth hungry on the Omega’s chest. This one had Obi-Wan’s eyes, something that pleased Jango.

“And we make beautiful children.” The pups were sleepy after their meal and they put them in their cribs again, three little lives that wouldn’t have existed if the Force hadn’t decided to play with Obi-Wan’s designation.

The Jedi left the nursery last, closed the door and threw his arms around Jango’s neck, kissing his jaw.

“So, I have three hours before I’m supposed to go in the Creche to nurse our elders, no programmed comm calls, nothing, you know what would be nice?”

“No?” Jango lied, even if he saw really well where this was going.

“If you took me to our bedroom, throw me on the bed and fulfilled your promise of not letting me go until I was open and dripping seed.”

Immediately, Jango threw him over his shoulder and took him to their bedroom, Obi-Wan’s laugh resonating in the apartment. On the bed, the few clothes didn’t last long and Jango had Obi-Wan where he wanted him, pinned naked under him.

“The things I want to do to you. Your mouth, your sweet hole. I want to feed you my cock and to see you coming from my knot in your perfect, tight ass.” He purred, voice low and Obi-Wan arched, smiling.

“And I would rejoice in every one of those things. Take that thing out, take its place. I want you. And then I want you to stretch me out on your fist.”

Jango tugged on the plug with a playful move, then took his mate’s mouth in a deep kiss. He took the plug out, savouring the small moan that Obi-Wan didn’t even try to stop, then pushing two fingers at its place in a wet noise, just to check how wet and open his Omega was. The body under him obeyed beautifully, welcoming and perfect.

“Three hours you said? Let’s see how many times I can make you yell my name.” Then, his voice dropping lower.

“Turn over, sweet thing.” And Obi-Wan scrambled eagerly to obey, then whimpered needlessly when Jango pressed against him, pushing him into position. Against his neck, he felt teeth, then two hands gripping his hips and a hard cock breaching him.

With a keening submissive moan, Obi-Wan went limp, offering himself to the Alpha whose weight was on him. Desire here was different from the one that took him during the heat, but he still lusted after that so much, that perfect moment when they were one, when Jango used him hard until he was dripping seed.

“Alpha, Jango…” he babbled, impatient to feel him move, to be stuffed full of his semen, and then whined when his Alpha started to fuck him slow and shallow. He wanted more, he wanted to be used and knotted, and he pushed back onto the penetration with a begging keen that had Jango immediately fucking him more violently. With a sound of incoherent lust, Obi-Wan went limp again and let his Alpha do with him as he wanted.


	16. Year 978 after the Ruusan Reformation

 

To say that Jango found the Separatists leaders unpleasant would be a gross understanding.

Give him a scoundrel with a blaster every day instead of those slippery bastards, ready to sell mother, father, or other genitor, for a greater profit. And Dooku. Dooku was the worst. Him, he just wanted to see the world burn. Still, you had to ally yourself with unsavoury people in that work, and the money he had gained in accepting to play template was a sum that even made him, the most prized bounty hunter in the Galaxy, impressed by the numbers of zero. The fact that the Jedi would die at the hands of his clones had been a plus, once, but as he went up the hallways of Poggle the Lesser’s hive, he was trying to not think about that.

Would the Jedi expel Obi-Wan? Perhaps that could be a chance for the Omega, a chance of survival. Who was he kidding? If the man who had stayed to wait for his coreligionist to find him and perhaps punish him wasn’t the sort of man who would try to stop what was coming for the Republic, official Jedi or not, Jango was a naked Twil’ek dancer.

Dooku was waiting for him in a circular room, with the usual aura of self-satisfaction.

“Fett.”

“Count.”

“You have come just in time. There will be a great celebration, tomorrow. You could even say it will be the first of many. Tonight will mark the renewal of the galaxy into a better order and we’ll assist it in its difficult birth.”

Jango stayed silent. That was one of the things he disliked with the Separatists: they were the monologuing vilain type!

Dooku didn’t even seem to remark his silence and continued: “All the Separatist Council is here, something that could have been a dangerous mistake of their part, of course, but will finally be of importance. After the celebration, they will be tied to our cause in a way that they couldn’t deny, and we’ll put them somewhere safer just after. Since you are here, you will escort them tomorrow. After that, the Jedi will of course search to kidnap them with a renewal interest.”

“I’m here with my son.” Jango refused immediately. If there was people he didn’t want in contact of Boba, that gathering of slugs was high on the list.

Dooku turned to him, disdain clear on his face. He only had contempt for the clones and didn’t even try to hide it, nor to hide that Jango’s relationship with Boba was a detrimental defect in the bounty hunter.

“I’m sure it will be very instructive for your …son.” And he pronounced the word in such way that Jango wanted to bash his skull against the consol. “And after all, the Jedi need to find Kamino. We’ll guide them here if necessary and it will be better if you and your progeny aren’t there at the time.”

“Some droids could escort them. My contract is finished and it’s time for me to search for other employers. The clones are ready and you don’t need me anymore.”

“Nonsense. We always need men like you. I insist.”

Jango kept silent, his teeth tight. The Count touched the consol.

“Let me show you tomorrow’s attraction. To be honest, I thought they would follow your trail more easily that the money one, but here it is. The Jedi found Genosis in following the money of the Trade Federation.”

A mobile panel had go back in the wall, letting see two silhouettes stuck into pillars of light. Jango’s heart had a miss when he saw the beige uniform, but he controlled his reactions when he saw that no one of them was Obi-Wan. It was a blue female Twil’ek and a male with dreadlocks, human or perhaps near human he couldn’t see exactly.

“The Jedi found Genosis and those two will die tomorrow in the arena for it.” The Count had a negligent gest of the head in the direction of the two prisoners.

“They are under heavily medication to stop them from reaching to the Force, of course. I wouldn’t want you to bore yourself in our walls, you can have one for the night, if it pleases you. Twil’ek women are highly recommended for that sort of work, I think.” The male Jedi immediately had very carefully chosen terms about that, but the women didn’t utter a word, and her gaze meet Jango’s without fear. In her regal composure, he saw traces of Obi-Wan’s.

He didn’t remember what terms he used to refuse, but he went back to Slave I in some sort of mist.

The Jedi had found Genosis. The war would begin, tomorrow, with the blood of those two. Soon, Jedi would lead his clones on battlefields all over the galaxy, soon they would trust their future murderers.

He sat down heavily. To run? No, he was sure the Genosis’s aerial defences would take him down twenty seconds after that. Nobody left the place without Dooku’s approval.

To free the Jedi and try to overthrow the whole hive with them? Yes, good luck, three warriors against all the hive, three warriors of which two were crippled with the medications. And it was if he could convince them to work with him, minutes after hearing Dooku casually proposing them to Jango for abuse!

What was he supposed to do, now?


	17. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

Jango was dreaming of the last jolts of the war. Images of blood and anger, so much anger. The pack wasn’t exactly formed at that moment but everybody who was a little prescient, or a lot observant, could see it possibility. He dreamed of his anger and his fear that it would be snatched from him before it had the time to happen, when a sensation of pleasure made the nightmare retreats.

Eyes still closed, the corner of his mouth quirked up. He had slept well and was feeling good, pleasantly sore from last night’s activities and ready to seize the day by its throat, and it was, in his opinion, the best way to wake up. He finally opened his eyes to the sun that was filling the bedroom and looked between his legs. His face flushed, his eyes brilliant, Obi-Wan winked at him, swallowed around him again, his mouth a voluptuous pleasure. His tongue was gentle, exploring every quirks that worked on his Alpha, nothing urgent but the love and lust between them, and his lips are never been more attractive that stretched that way.

Jango rolled his hips and let himself be taken by the rhythm. It was slow, lazy, the pleasure swelling higher like the tide of the seas that surrounded them, easing them into the day, Jango torn between the look of Obi-Wan’s mouth wrapped around his cock and the onslaught of pleasure that wanted him to close his eyes to last.

His hand cupped his Omega’s cheek, passing in the red hair he loved so much, messy from the sleep and from their couplings last night, tracing the mating scar with a thrill, then his neck. Obi-Wan keened around his mouthful, the sound the most delicious torture around Jango’s cock, and shifted closer, as close as possible.

“Look at you.” Jango grumbled. “Kriff, your mouth is made for that. Red and shiny, made to go round around my dick. Sweet mouth, sweet Omega, so hot like that. Should keep you with your mouth full of cock all days…” Obi-Wan swallowed him to the base and Jango’s hips couldn’t keep calm anymore but it wasn’t a problem, after seven years, Obi-Wan never let himself be surprised anymore, only whined for more.

Jango’s hand on the neck became harder, fisting in the red hair, as the gentleness let place to a more frantic moment, and he used that beautiful mouth, lust craving in his belly as if it had been months and not only a few hours. Obi-Wan took it, his throat relaxed and welcoming, his eyes almost glazed by lust, his scent more enticing than ever, muffled sounds of pleasure accompanying it. The knot inflated and the Alpha’s seed spilled into the warm mouth, a long orgasm like the biology dictated of him, and Obi-Wan moved, let the first spurts mark his lips, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose and then went back, mouth stretched, and swallowed, again and again.

“Come here.” Jango urged when he remembered again how to use his mouth to form words and not only to pant. His voice was wrecked by the pleasure and he pulled Obi-Wan to him, and kissed him passionately, kneading that ass that he liked so much, before pushing two fingers into it. Obi-Wan murmured something indistinct and soft.

“Beautiful Omega. Wonderful mate.” Jango encouraged, using without shame his lover’s praise kink, wrapping himself around him, playing with his prostate without mercy.

“You should see yourself. So soft, so sweet, so perfect.” He bit a shoulder and then licked it, before raining small bites again everywhere he could reach, something that always made his lover whines. “You satisfied me so well last night and your mouth is the best wake up call. Did you like it? I should not go away so much, I know you were too empty.”

Obi-Wan whined something that looked like more, and Jango slipped another finger into him.

“Like that? Is it enough for your nice tight little ass.”

“You’ve knotted me three times yesterday and fisted me. Not sure I’m so tight.”

Jango pushed another finger, the fourth, because he had made his goal in life to render Obi-Wan speechless from pleasure.

“But you’re. Perfect, tight, sweet ass. Made for my knot. Do you have enough fingers like that, sweet thing? » And Obi-Wan could only keen, the sound enough to make Jango swallow thickly, even after a very satisfying blowjob. He took his Omega’s cock in his other hand, sliding it around the shaft in counterpoint to his fingers, and the Jedi had a gurgling sound and came, sagging back against his Alpha.

They shared long kisses, sweet and gentle, hands skimming on sweaty backs, and Jango was trying to remember if they had time for a small nap before his datapad bipped on his bedside table.

With a grumpy frown that made Obi-Wan chuckle, he took the thing and checked it, to discover he had only had one hour before his first meeting of the day with Senator Farr about a potential settlements of clones on Rodia. He made a face. Politics. Oh, he was good at it, better that he would have thought: after all, there was a thrill to providing for his pack, a thrill to see them growing in power and possibilities, and it was planning, the same as when he had planned hunts. He had been, still was, the best bounty hunter, because he could understood how his prey thought, and politics required that gift too.

It was also terribly important: their program of other settlements was going well and was a requirement of circumstances. Clones settled elsewhere did very good security forces, police works, and most of them found mates on those worlds. They couldn’t isolate themselves on Kamino for all eternity after all. Especially since almost all children born on Kamino right now, all those born in the Jedi settlement, were genetically half Jango.

He groaned. He adored his life, but politics? Really? And he disliked Farr almost as much as he disliked that Naboo’s Senator that had come to try to take Anakin’s away, at the beginning of the pack.  

“I quit.” He grumbled against Obi-Wan’s shoulder, before adding “Dogma can lead the pack.”, but his lover only laughed again and escaped from his arms.

“I will start the caf!” He promised from the door, throwing a long tunic to cover his nudity and Jango had a smile.

Perhaps he could play politics, to keep this life.


	18. Year 978 after the Ruusan Reformation

Obi-Wan was still on his knees when the Jedi put foot on Kamino. He didn’t move, he didn’t look, until he saw boots in his line of vision.

“Look at me, Kenobi.” Mace Windu ordered and Obi-Wan looked up. Windu had a frown and was radiating exasperation in the Force and he was suddenly thrown back to his teenage years. That was the exact sensation he remembered from the times his departed, regretted Master had to explain to the Coucil the collateral damages of their mission/the latest diplomatic incident/why exactly Jedi were now _persona non grata_ on the Capitol of Sittefnoc…

“Get up. Nobody has knelt in that position for hundreds of years.” Windu growled and in the Force, Obi-Wan could almost feel the other man’s headache.

“I think I may have make quite a mess, Master, one that our Order hadn’t seen for hundreds of years.”

“Will someone shoot at us if we go inside?”

Obi-Wan took a second to think about it. As suspicious as everything was, the cloners were still pretending Jedi had ordered the clones army.

“No, Master.”

“Then come. You look like a drowned pup.” And Windu took him by the arm to help him get up, as he was aching from kneeling so long.

Inside the blast doors, Obi-Wan turned to his brethren. He bowed to Adi and to Kit, that he had known since he was a child, and then to the unknown Knight, a woman with brown hair and tan skin.

“I am Sar Labooda.” The Knight said, bowing herself, and her eyes suddenly went round, and he winced, understanding that without the rain, his smell, the smell of an Omega, was perceptible.

“Oh Obi-Wan, what have you done to yourself?” Master Gallia said, and put her hand on his shoulder. How distressed he must smell, for her to act like that!

“It’s quite a story.” He answered trying, and missing, for a calm tone by almost as far away as it was possible to miss. He probably sounded a touch ready for hysteric, and he pushed his panic about a possible dismissal from the Order into the Force. He didn’t have the time for more, didn’t have the time to explain anything.

“Masters Jedi, what an honour. So many of you.”

As one, the Jedi, including Obi-Wan, bowed to the Kaminoan that had joined them.

“As I said to Master Kenobi, your clones’ army is ready.”

Obi-Wan felt the shock of the other.

“Yes, there is that, too.” And this time, his tone was not bordering on hysterics, but fully there.

Mace Windu’s teeth gritted almost horribly.

“Labooda, with me. Kit, Adi, Kenobi’s debriefing.” And then he turned to the Kaminoan. “I would like to inspect the army, now; gentlebeing.”

They turned in the hallways, and Obi-Wan left alone with Kit Fisto and Adi Gallia.

“Come on.” Kit said. “It will be more comfortable to talk in the ship that in that sterile hallway and I want to scan you, trying to flush out that chemicals of you.”

“I don’t think it’s a chemical.” Obi-Wan confessed, his voice quiet, but he went with them, let Kit plug in to almost all medical devices in the ship that the Masters had used. He had thought it would have been difficult to tell them about his time in Jango’s bed, but once he had started, he couldn’t stop. He was so used to shared meditations, to have his thoughts accessible and to plug feelings from close Jedi, as easily as breathing, that it wasn’t different. His shields had almost automatically thinned and as he told them about becoming an Omega, about Jango’s help, images were flowing between them. Obi-Wan on his back, almost mindless with lust, legs in the air, and the comfort of an Alpha’s presence. Obi-Wan and Jango on the couch, Obi-Wan’s rear in the air, and how good, how normal it felt, when the knot came and tied them, when he felt himself stuffed full of sperm…It was normal to share everything , as it had been normal to share everything in his life with his fellow Jedi.

It was only the moment where he warned Jango that had them frowning, when they understood the bounty hunter had escaped because of Obi-Wan.

“You’ll certainly face a meeting with the Council of Reconciliation. But nobody can be surprised of a bad decision in those circumstances, not still under hormones’ influence” Kit grimaced. “And perhaps a small…” he searched for words. “Adjustment period.”

“To be sure I won’t go crazy and open my legs for the first Alpha I meet you mean?” Obi-Wan answered, feeling a spark of anger at the words. He wasn’t some mindless animal commanded by his hormones.

“Play nice.” Adi commanded from the cockpit and she threw his tunic to Obi-Wan“Kenobi, dress up.”

“The tests aren’t finished.” Kit protested immediatly.

“No time. I’ve capted a distress message from our team on Genosis. I’ve resend it to Coruscant but it will be too long. They’ve been captured. Comm Mace and Labooda. Obi-Wan, you’re staying on Kamino. Try to unravel this mess during that time, we’ll come back for you just after. ”

“I can help, Master Gallia.”

“I’m not taking an Omega in a combat situation if I can help it, not until we know why you are an Omega. Four of us will be enough to extract our team.”

“Adi…” They turned to the ramp of the ship. Mace Windu and Knight Labooda were standing here, cheeks flushed, frown deep.

“We may have a problem.” Mace Windu said. The scents of Omegas were unmistakeable.


	19. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

Jango disliked politicians. Playing the game as the unofficial Alpha of Kamino, watching the Jedi Council play the game, forcing himself to interact with Senators when he wanted to throw them out of various windows just to be let in peace, hadn’t exactly change his opinion.

Obi-Wan was way more politically oriented than him, for all his grumbling about politicians, but Jango could still do a good approximation. Profiling a Senator to anticipate his move wasn’t so different from understanding a crime lord.

“Don’t let them hear you say that.” Obi-Wan would sight, vexed in the name of the Republic, but he still helped him in his research before every meeting.

Yes, Jango disliked politicians, even if he knew how to play the game, and sometimes, but only sometimes, even played it without cheating, so he had half a headache that day when he went home after meeting Senator Farr. The compromise had let the two negotiating teams frustrated, something that probably denounced it was fair for everyone, and there was a lot of points not yet discussed but that would wait next day. When he was home, he wanted to have time for his family, and since the Rhodians insisted he be there for every part of it, when one of the vode would do as good, they had to accept his pace.

Now, he was having lunch with his mate and their family and politics could wait.

Inside the apartment, it was the joyful chaos he had come to love. Not only Boba had brought all his siblings from the Creche, but Anakin was here with two of his mates, Rex and Fives, and a few of their children too.

Fives and Boba were putting plates on the large table and Boba was laughing at something Fives was saying when Jango entered, Rex was trying to convince one of the children to put back his pants, and Anakin and Obi-Wan were talking sitting on the biggest couch, their tunics discarded, nursing a baby each.

The Alpha in him quietly approved of this, the proof of the pack fertility and future: they were beautiful, the two of them, bodies softer from all the pregnancies, Anakin’s belly full of pups, and the enthusiast nursing of the babies on their teats. Probably their own baby, but the Omega Jedi were in the habits to open their tunics to any hungry child, if they had birthed him or her or not. It was a good way to reinforce the pack, after all, and the Force had been good to them: Jango had never heard that one of the Jedi had lacked milk.  

He observed a second the scene and the two babies: Jango would never, ever, confess it, but he had sometimes difficulties to tell his and Obi-Wan’s pups from Anakin and his mates when they were very young. After all, they were half-siblings, since Anakin’s mate were genetically identical to Jango, and Obi-Wan and Anakin weren’t so different, fair skinned the two of them, that you could tell easily on babies. When they grew older, of course, it was easier, but there…It wasn’t so important: Jango would kill entire armies with his bare hands to protect them, all of them.

He kissed his mate first, then was assaulted by running, laughing children, clamouring for kisses and hugs, affirming he had been absent a small eternity, and all vying for his attention. His headache gone, he still took the time to greet Anakin, kissing the blond curls in affection, then hugged Boba and the two vode, and lost himself in the pleasure of the children. The five older, their first litter, insisted to show him their latest Force tricks, two smaller boys commanded his knees and he let the outside fade in the sound of family.

The food, the games, the stories, slightly exaggerated in some topics and totally downplayed on other that Jango told of his last mission, all of that made a good moment for the children. He knew it was resonating in the Force: he could see it in Obi-Wan’s eyes, in the relaxed line of Anakin’s shoulders. Obi-Wan was in the habit to call that ‘drunk on happiness’. The red-haired man was burrowing against Jango, nursing a two years old little girl who Jango was sure was Anakin’s and every minute, he put kisses on the angle of his jaw. Anakin was with Rex on a loveseat and whatever the Alpha was whispering right into his ear, it gave the Omega a dreamy smile and some colour on his cheeks.

“I think it’s nap time.” Boba murmured, to be sure he wouldn’t wake up suddenly the little boy already sleeping against him. With Jango’s help, he transferred all the children in the nursery, putting on the floor the mattresses that they kept exactly for that occasion.

He yawned. “I think I will catch one hour too. I’m keeping an eye on them.”

“I don’t think why you find necessary to specify that.”

Boba smiled and didn’t answer, simply putting his shoes next to the door and crawling in the pile of sleeping children, who latched even in sleep to their big brother.

Jango came back to the living room. Whatever Rex had said to Anakin, it was totally something his mate loved: Anakin was now on Fives’ lap, his tunic half undone, Fives’ hands sliding over the revealed skin, and they were kissing, hard. Rex was observing the scene with evident interest, a bulge in his pants, and Obi-Wan was collecting the traces of the meal, not surprised and not embarrassed, even more: profoundly satisfied.

It was probably one of the thing that had been the most difficult to understand for Jango, and Obi-Wan had explained to him a great number of time that it was resonating in the Force, a more important sense that view, so really, normal people insistence for closed doors was very strange. Jango had finally renounced to make them understand and there, he only closed and locked the door of the hallway, to be sure no child would see anything.

He joined Obi-Wan in putting the food away, one eye on the other three.

“If your Padawan wasn’t already pregnant, you could think it would happen here.”

Obi-Wan only laughed, threw his arms over his neck and kissed him. His eyes were clear, sparkling of joy and Jango, curious, asked: “How does he feel in the Force?”

Obi-Wan didn’t even turn to observe Anakin, now sitting between his two mates, and who was losing more and more clothes. Not that he was wearing a lot at the beginning.

“So happy.” Obi-Wan smiled. “So happy, full of joy. Cherished, loved.”

He kissed Jango again. “Do you know that I never wanted other than that for him? If you could feel how happy he is. Safe, loved.”

Fives’ teeth were grazing the side of Anakin’s mating mark and the young Omega had a long moan, his smell becoming sweeter. Jango felt himself harden in his pants. He would never touch Anakin, he would never touch again another than Obi-Wan, but how he loved the proofs of the pack’s happiness and fertility. And Anakin, the closest to Obi-Wan, how he loved to see him submitting beautifully to the vode, his womb quickening from their seeds, an Omega of the pack, tied to them, safe and theirs.

He sat down heavily, drawing Obi-Wan in, on his lap, his back against his chest. Anakin was really beautiful, golden and blessed, moaning as Rex’s large hands caressed his breasts, as Fives dipped teasingly a finger into his body.

“Tell me again.”

“I love seeing him like that. Well-cared and loved.”

“You know we’ll take care of all of you.”

“Yes, all the Jedi. Jango, kiss me…”

Jango dipped his head to kiss his neck, licking his mark. He could feel Obi-Wan’s slick, already running through the clothes. Their pants would need a thorough washing. He attacked his mate pants, opening them, pushing them on the floor, Obi-Wan wearing only his loose tunic that he kept home to nurse easily.

The ginger was babbling, a proof that his lust and Anakin’s were influencing each other has he needed more normally to go there. The younger Omega was sucking on Rex’ fingers, his eyes so dilated they seemed black.

“He's so happy. If you could feel it in the Force. He's so happy, lived, well cared. All my brethren are, if you could feel it in the Force...It’s you, Jango. You and the vode. You took us, you kept us.  We’re yours. I’m yours”

He pushed the tunic higher, exposing Obi-Wan, forcing his legs apart, taking his sex in his hand. On the couch, the other Alpha had put Anakin on his knees, totally naked, and just opened their pants. Years ago, Jango would have been terribly embarrassed to see one of his clones pushing his cock into his mate’s mouth, the other one mounting Anakin, but today, he only admired the Omega’s beauty, the way he chased Fives’ cock from his lips when Fives took it out for a second, rubbing against Anakin’s lips, cheeks, before thrusting against in his mouth, the way Rex’s hands looked on Anakin’s hips. He made quite a view between the two of them with his big belly and his gold hair.

“Tell me. Tell me what resonates in the Force. ”

“Love. Safety. Pack. ”

“Are a lot of Jedi like Anakin, right now? Look at him. On his knees, his belly round from a litter, his teats full of milk and already asking for more. ”

“Yes, oh yes.”

“Do you feel them? Look at him. Feel them. Do you feel your brethren fucked and loving it? Do you feel our pack happy? ”

“Yes oh yes, Alpha. So many of them.... ”

Jango was going slow on Obi-Wan’s sex, but suddenly the Jedi arched and orgasmed.

“Obi-Wan?”

“I think I felt Tiplar conceiving...Alpha, please, Alpha your knot.”

With a growl at the idea, Jango moved, standing down and pushing Obi-Wan in his place on the couch. He simply opened his pants, pushed the Jedi until he was kneeling and presenting, and took him, fucking into him to the music of Obi-Wan’s moans under him and Anakin’s on the other side of the room, until with a groan, his hips jerking one last time, he came violently, tying him, Obi-Wan coming again without a hand on his sex, clenching around him.


	20. 978 after the Ruusan Reformation

 

The Jedi most of time acted alone or as a pair of Master and Padawan. It was a hard life in a galaxy where a lot of crime lords thought a Jedi’ skull made you a man, so they were in the habits to use the local resource, let it be some Judicials, for example…or some clones’ army.

“Yes, they are as suspicious as you can get, but we have no proof that Kit and I won’t develop the same problem as the three of you. It’s good to have back-up.” Adi had taken charge and ordered.

“Omega-ness isn’t a problem.” Obi-Wan had remarked, defensive, and she had relented, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Omega-ness is well and good, but most of time doesn’t come like that. I won’t let the three of you there, not when that world seems to change our people. But if the three of you have a sudden heat, or Kit and I develop in the same pattern…Then I hope the clones will be enough to save our brethren. They are the first issue, the most important. We’ll clear up this mystery after.”

And they had gone, clones and Jedi, jumped into hyperspace to rescue Knight Secura and her former Master. Two hours into the space travel, Adi had presented, and Kit had taken command.

“We’ll infiltrate the complex.” He had tell to the clone in charge. “If everything is going well, you won’t need to act. A few Jedi are easier in the galactical context: with you, it would be war.”

“We will monitor the frequency and be there if you need there, sir.” The clone had answered. Kit didn’t know anything about military grades, but the clones had apparently understood it and the one in command, whatever his grade was, had taken to follow him around like a duckling, to be sure the Jedi didn’t give his assault orders to the medic or the transmission officer again….

“I’m sure you’ll be. I certainly hope you won’t need it. Who, in his right mind, would want a galactic war? No, I’m sure we’ll find a solution.”

He gave a bow to the trooper and the five Jedi left silently.

 


	21. Year 985 after the Russan Reformation

In the long history of politicians that Jango had disliked, or tried to murder in some professional capacity, no one of them had been as much a pain in the ass as Senator Padmé Amidala, Senator from Naboo.

And it wasn’t his bias against politicians, a bias which he totally assumed. He had a surprisingly good working relationship with Chancellor Organa for example.

No, it was totally on Amidala.

Ok, if he was quite honest, Palpatine had been more of a problem.

Palpatine had been a huge problem, Palpatine had been THE problem, once Jango had changed his allegiance, but the not-regretted Chancellor was excluded of the politicians list on behalf of having been an evil Sith bent on putting the whole galaxy in his control. Also he was very, very dead, if someone could have been more than one hundred percent dead it would have been him because Jango and the vode had been very thorough and the Jedi had checked after too.

So, Amidala.

The most vexing thing was that in other circumstances, he could have liked her. A lot of times, the small, infuriating woman voted as Dogma in the Senate and if Jango didn’t follow most of debate, only those who concerned Kamino directly, or could affect them, he trusted Dogma to take good decisions, so if Amidala voted like him…

Still, when that evening, when Anakin and his mates had gone home and Obi-Wan and Boba were busy making dinner with the pups, he swore a blue streak when he checked his message and saw Dogma announcing that the Senator would be part of the delegations of the Senate the month after.

“Language,” Obi-Wan chirped, too cheerful on Jango’s opinion.

He put the message right under Obi-Wan’s nose, as a justification. He didn’t want the pups to learn so young that sort of language but he had good excuses!

“Still disliking here because she tried to convince Anakin to go back with her?”

“She almost kidnapped him.”

“This is a gross exaggeration, as you perfectly know, and in her defence, she thought him under some sort of influence. And disliking her because you fell for the handmaiden trick is not very fair of you.”

Jango didn’t answer, decided to continue disliking her. Obi-Wan just didn’t understand and the thing with the handmaiden totally wasn’t the reason. His professional pride could take being almost played by infuriating women in too much make up, it could, even if to that day he didn’t know how many of them there had been. Naboo. People of Naboo couldn’t be trusted. Look at Palpatine!

He accepted the glass of wine Obi-wan pressed into his hand and the passing kiss, and rescued a pile of plates that a kid tried, not very successfully, to levitate. At the stove, Boba was very quietly singing and the quiet domesticity could almost make him forget the Senator.

“Also,” the Omega started again, “You should try to appreciate her.”

“Yeah, so many chances of that. And why?”

“Because I’ve bet ten credits with Cody, and I’m very sure of me, that she’s coming with the Senate Delegation only because Dogma and she are an item and want to tell it to the pack.”

“ ** _What_**?!?”


	22. Year 978 after the Russan Reformation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been more long that usual because apparently I can't write battles....I should have stick to porn!

Ten days ago, Jango would have been happy to be there, on the royal balcony overseeing Genosis arena to see Jedi die. He would have taken Boba to see it and silently rejoiced himself on that first step that would led to the total destruction of that fourth damned Order. He would have put his hand on his son’s shoulder in silence and vowed to himself Boba would see a world without the Jedi and never suffer what he had because of them.

He certainly would have disliked the company because the Separatist leaders had been slimy cowards from the beginning. But Dooku… He had always disliked Dooku but he had liked his readiness to do what had to be done.

Now, he had insisted Boba stayed inside Slave I and he was gritting his teeth so hard his jaw would certainly hurt later. He wanted to hurl a Nemoidian or two into the arena and Dooku….well, there was nothing he liked about Dooku now. The man that proposed him a drugged, helpless, Twilek last night as a plaything wasn’t a man Jango could support.

Kill Jedi, sure.

But that?

Perhaps it was because he had been a slave for some time after the massacre of his people, but Jango had opinions about that sort of things.

He took a long, controlled breath.

The two Jedi would die. Certainly not a pretty or easy death, but it would soon be done and Jango would leave.

There was nothing he could do for them, not without great risks to Boba. And Jango had no intention to put his son into that mess, in fact, he had overcome his stay with the Separatists. As soon as the Jedi would be dead, neither Separatist nor Republic space would see them for a long, long time.

He was so busy wishing for the time to move faster, for it to be over, that he almost missed the sound of the lightsaber. A smiling Nautolean was with them on the balcony and his argument was of the armed model.

Then chaos erupted.

Next thing Jango knew, he was in the arena and what seemed to be billions of those damned bugs started shooting at everything. Even shooting at each other, so taken by the frenzy of battle that they just wanted to kill, enemies, allies, their own brothers, or what passed for brothers in their specie, it didn’t count.

They wanted to kill.

In the middle of the arena the two Jedi weren’t tied to the poles anymore and Jango’s heart had a somersault in his chest when he saw other figures in that beige doing impossible aerials, the plasma of their sabres as banners. Jedi had come. Was Obi-Wan….

Shoots. More shoots. He killed without hesitation a few bugs between him and the Jedi but he didn’t have the time for more.

With the noise, he heard at the last moment the ships: Jedi hadn’t come alone and for the first time he saw his clones in real action. The bugs had no real chance against the perfectly crafted flesh weapons of Kamino, and in that moment it didn’t count that they outnumbered the clones, soon the clones were tearing into their ranks with great speed. Perhaps with a little bit too much enthusiasm and explosives: a part of floor of the arena collapsed, letting apparent the droids factory under it.

Jango threw himself into one of the entries. Whatever happened, it would do without him. If Obi-Wan was here, he was on his own. He was taking Boba and making a life for them without the spectre of Dooku looming over them. Far away, perhaps in the unexplored regions. He wouldn’t let his son an orphan.

Jedi and Sith could tear each other to pieces, it wasn’t his problem.

His good resolution lasted three corridors. The sound of the battle was still resonating in his head when he heard a commotion ahead and the telltalle sound of a lightsaber.

He wanted to pass without pause, he wanted, but the scent of a distressed Omega caught him like a punch in an unarmoured chest and two seconds after he was shooting bugs like it was going out of style.

The mass of those damn thing was so thick that he didn’t realize immediately that the Omega he was trying to join wasn’t Obi-Wan. Sure, there was a lightsaber, the beige tunic but it was a woman with brown skin struggling against the Separatist droids.

An Omega Jedi, as impossible, as biologically illogic, as miraculous and mind-blowing as Obi-Wan.

And she was losing her fight against the droids, her fighting style not appropriate against the number of shoots coming her way she had to face. Jango reacted without thinking, his instincts to protect an Omega more instinct that anything else. Together, they fought that battle, their own battle, when outside the other Jedi and the clones were clearing the ranks of the battle droids.

Jango hated war. They were just too many variables and his craft was one of precision, chirurgical strikes, not that butchery. Here, they were only two of them against ranks of droids and bugs, and even with the cover he provided, she got hurt, a nasty wound on the arm. The distress noise of an hurt Omega, the thing an Alpha like Jango was the most wired biologically to hate, distracted him for a second and he was touched by a splinter from the wall after an explosion…

But they survived, together they survived letting behind them a path of bodies, biologic or mechanical, and found a place to lay low…where she promptly put his lightsaber right under his nose. What an idiot he had been. For a second, he had forgotten he was an enemy of the Jedi and here he was, too close for surviving an encounter with one of those damn swords. Would she strike him here, let Boba orphan?

The words rose immediately: “I’m with Obi-Wan, I’m a friend!”

And whatever he was radiating in the Force must have been potent, because after a second of hesitation, she let her saber down.

They didn’t have time for more: already the noises of another droids squad was resonating in the hallways.

“We need to go back to the arena, my brethren need my help,” the Jedi said.

“My son is in my ship in one of the hangar,” Jango immediately answered.

She didn’t even hesitate.

“The hangar, then.”

He could start to like those Jedi that put children before anything else, even themselves.

Supporting each other, they started to walk.


	23. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

 

Kamino had a rare sunny day, something that happened so little that all non-essential activities had been postponed. All landing runways had been cleared of ships and clones and Jedi are using this rare day to just play and lounge in the sun.

Everybody was clothed, an almost as rare occurrence, but since all children old enough to leave the Crèche were here too…From the corners of his eyes, Jango had seen a few couples leaving the platforms, probably in search of a little privacy, confidant in the other adults to watch their children. When he had joined his people after a long holocall with Cody about the other Alpha current mission, he had also seen in a nook, in the hallways just before the platform, Hardcase, his back against the wall, his pants open, his eyes closed and his expression blissful, Anakin on his knees before him, his head bobbing.

All Jedi and clones mated groups had healthy libido, but sometimes Jango thought it bordered on the ridiculous for Anakin and his three mates. How many times a day exactly…Those four had probably almost as sex on a normal day that a mated pair did on heat day! No wonder Anakin was almost always pregnant, his womb quickening at the first heat after the birth of a litter.

With an amused smile, he had dismissed them of his mind and joined the outside platforms.

On the highest, young Padawans were playing some rodian game with a ball, their masters simply watching and enjoying the sun, lazily laying down on big chairs and couch their Alpha brought outside. A little apart, a part of the Jedi council was having an impromptu session, seated in circle. Mace Windu was absent, still in the halls of healing after the birth of his daughters, and Adi too, secluded with her mate for her heat, but all the other were here and he caught the sight of Obi-Wan, his tunic open and a child to his breast, talking to Depa with animation.

Jango kept them in the corner of his eyes, but it didn’t seem they were discussing life changing stuff. He would have bet Yoda was napping instead of listening, Coleman Trebor was nursing a pup too and everyone seemed relaxed, probably working on some non-urgent proposals that had been postponed before, when they were supposed to take the day off, like everyone else. He should have been happy they were doing it outside to enjoy the sun.

He was letting them work for another hour, then he would steal Obi-Wan, who had promised him to fly with him this afternoon in one of those little ships they had to ride just above the waves.

His two opponents sensed his mind was turned to his lover and they choose that moment to attack with one of those impossible jumps Jedi do. He has let his jetpack in his quarter and he was bound to the platform, but that didn’t stop him. The first one was rolling on the floor in ten seconds and the second only took him a little more to dispatch.

“I taught you better than that. It’s not because someone seems distracted that he really is.”

“Sorry Jango!” Ahsoka and Barriss said in the same breath.

They were out of breath but smiling and he let them took back their training lightsabers. Even if the lives they would led would be less dangerous that before the migration of the Jedi Order to Kamino, they still trained, like all Jedi did. They were still too young to present, and way too young to take one of the few missions the Jedi took, but like all Padawans, they cherished the time Jango taught them, even when it was a little ego bruising.

Or bruising, just bruising, because he pulled his punches but not so much: pain could be a learning experience after all.

He observed them for a few more seconds. He had seen a lot of Padawans coming of age and present during the last years and he would have bet those two would do it together and take the same mate, or mates. But for now, they were more interested in fighting than looking at young alpha’s backsides!

He had a smirk and made the universal “Come at me” gesture and with a cry, their voices almost lost in the sound of the ocean, they attacked again.


	24. Year 978 after the Russan Reformation

No Jedi had died on Genosis. Not even the two that should have died in the arena. The clones had extracted the Jedi with brutal efficiency and then, when they should have pushed their advantages, they had taken them to their ships and left Genosis’ orbit, just stopping to let Slave I enter the hangar of one of the Kamino cruiser, and Jango had let medics sweep up the Jedi woman then made Boba swore he wouldn’t left the ship, and go in search of intel.

When the Twilek Jedi had found Jango again, she had put her fist into his face and he had been too distracted, searching for Obi-Wan in the mass of people, to prevent it.

He stood up, blood in his mouth, harsh words about the control Jedi should have on his lips. She had a mean right hook. The words never made it past his lips: he stopped talking when he caught her scent, distressed and sweet and easy to identify.

She was an Omega. Like the woman he had helped out of the droid factory. Like Obi-Wan. Like the other Jedi, the one with the dreadlocks that was hovering nearby them, his scent as distressed, but also as fertile and sweet and impossible.

“What the fuck is happening?” Jango asked, even if he knew they would have no answer. This was getting ridiculous. He turned to Slave I, safe into the hangar of the cruiser. Boba was waiting for him inside. He could ditch the Jedi and the clones, he could…

“Jango.”

It was Obi-Wan. Sweaty, a burn on his shoulder, dirty from the sand of the arena, but alive, alive, alive. Jango refrained, at the last second, to touch him, mindful of the other Jedi, but how he wanted…

The red head was still smelling that sweet unmated scent, Jango’s own odour disappeared from his skin since he hadn’t bonded him during that long heat. It was distressing, Jango discovered.

“We’re dropping from hyper space to contact the Jedi Council. Would you accept to speak to them?”

“Nothing to say to them,” Jango grunted.

“I’m not asking for the secrets of your trade. Just…” He bit his lips and Jango had to close his fists to keep control. He wanted to take those lips with his mouth, he wanted to force his tongue between them. He wanted to kiss him again and again, to mess him until Obi-Wan was covered in his scent again. Perhaps to see them again round around his cock like Obi-Wan had done just before telling him to run.

The Jedi took him by the arm and dragged him apart.

“Dooku and the Separatist leaders escaped and yes, if you had one idea of where they are, that would be awfully nice of you to say. But now, we’re a little more preoccupied by our fluctuating genders. You’ve scented Quin and Aaylala?”

“You mean them?” Jango designed the two Jedi, speaking too low for him to hear. The man was sending angry glares to Jango, for whatever reason and that was very strange when his scent proclaimed his Omega gender.

“Yes.”

“They’re like you,” Jango answered, and there was a little something awed in his tone. Omega Jedi weren’t supposed to exist. And yet, he had met three, even if Obi-Wan was still the only one he wanted to drag into Slave I to bend him over the bunk. No, not three, there had been….He continued: “And I have met another Jedi, a brown human woman, she helped me rescue Boba when the droids had surrounded Slave I. And she was an Omega too.”

“It’s Knight Labooda. She’s in the infirmary, she said you saved her life,” The Alpha in Jango wanted to puff his chest. He had saved an Omega from Obi-Wan’s family. That was the thing a good Alpha would do to prove his worth. He savagely stomped on this part of his psyche, the part that remembered how sweet it had been to pound into a moaning Obi-Wan and let the Omega continue.

“Quinlan and Aaylala have presented the second we jumped into hyperspace, thanks the Force they don’t seem ready for a heat right now. And when the rescue team came for me on Kamino –”

“Where I never put you in danger!”

“I know, let me finish. Two of them presented on Kamino.”

“As Omega?”

“Oh yes. And one of them in hyperspace coming to Genosis. And the last one right during the battle.”

Jango stayed silent. This was crazy, crazy, crazier than anything he had ever heard and see, and he had heard and see a lot in his life as a bounty hunter but it was almost…

“There is only one thing tying all of those occurrences, ”Obi-Wan said and in his eyes, Jango saw he had the same conclusion.

“It’s me,” the bounty hunter said, his voice so low he almost didn’t hear it himself. His mind was spinning. All their careful planning to insert clones into the Jedi’s lives by making the Jedi the commanding officers of the army, all the work the Kaminoans, Dooku, Jango and the Separatist had done and the second a Jedi would met his first clones…

Jango needed two tries to articulate it:

“It’s me and my clones. We’re making the Jedi turn from second gender-less into Omega.”


	25. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

When Obi-Wan had been pregnant for the first time, freshly mated, the mark on his neck still red, Boba had said nothing, not even when the Omega’s belly had started to go round from Jango’s seed.

Boba had said nothing and he liked Obi-Wan, who made his father so happy, who always had time for him and never tried to force himself into a parental role until Boba himself was ready for it. No, that wasn’t the problem, but sometimes Jango had still seen his gaze on his mate’s belly and there was a little fear, some jealousy. A fear to be replaced.

Jango had been careful to always have time for him, even taken by the work of those busy time, where everything was reinvented on Kamino. And now, when he was watching him, he felt such pride that it could make his heart stop in his chest.

He had wanted an heir when he had stricken the deal with Dooku and he had received so much more.

A son.

A son that was bloody dangerous, smart and, the more important, a son that was so happy. Boba was more smiling that Jango had ever been and seeing him with the pups or the Padawan, a big brother protective and patient, seeing him with the vode, a warrior worthy of the old Mando’s legends….

Boba was in the Crèche that morning, teaching Mando’a to a bunch of seven years old younglings, all Jedi Iniate. Jedi had always been polyglot and it had been logical to add that language into the cursus, a sign of the merging of culture that was happening on Kamino.

He was correcting a little black-haired girl pronunciation when he caught Jango’s presence.

“Excellent, Roganda. Can you do the third exercise on your datapad now?” He said to the child and then he joined Jango who put a hand on his shoulder. The older Alpha needed to look up a little, genetics weren’t everything and Boba had never lacked the proper nutrients growing up.

“We have a break-out in the Nyax’s slavers rings,” Jango explained, his voice low, and Boba grimaced. Since the Jedi had turned from Null to Omega, young or/and untrained Force Sensitives were a prey in slavers’ minds. The criminal world had tried it with Jedi too, but had quickly learned that Omega or not, Jedi were predators in their own rights, without even the presence of the clones always accompanying them the rare times when they left Kamino.

The Nyax one was coming from Corellia and a pain in the ass for Judicials and for the Clones, who saw in every slave a personal offense, and an even greater one when they were Force Sensitive. Every year Hutt’s space become smaller, every year the Republic under Organa’s tutelage grow more, finally finding back its original mission and when the Hutts tried to keep under their control planets that had asked for Republic’s membership, well, clones did excellent protectors for newly elected leaders.

“Judicials found a secret base of this fuckers somewhere in the Outer Rim, outside Republic space. A strike team is assembled. You will join Cody and his men on Tattoine. They will gave you tactical help and support. Strike the compound. Try to let one or two alive for interrogation. No disintegration or you know Obi-Wan will do his disappointed face. Bring back the slaves here. They will be safe until we found their family and home worlds.”

“When you say _you_? I can go? And you’re not….”

“Rex has command of the strike group, but he wants you for second in command and I wanted to be the one to tell you. It’s time you go on more difficult mission, you’re more than ready.”

Boba’s smile was solar. Jango was sure that sort of smiles had been extinct for him long before he was that age.

“I’m proud of you, Boba. Now go and kick their asses. A good slaver is a burning slaver.”

“Yes, buir!”

Boba commed a Crèche Master to take care of the kids and ran to the tactical centre. Jango kept an eye on the kids, especially little Roganda who was a trouble maker, telling them old Manda’o stories, until the arrival of the Master, then took the long route to the adult part of the Jedi Compound. At this hour, Obi-Wan was working in the library, deep into philosophical treaties, but he would be happy to emerge to say good bye to Boba on the departure of the ships.

And then, perhaps Jango could convince him to abandon his books a little more for a moment in the gardens. A moment in the pool, just the two of them and the sounds of other mating pairs in the other pools, and his Omega’ mouth, red and used, Obi-Wan’s eyes shining…The simple idea made him harden in his pants. He had never enough even if he had tied Obi-Wan that morning just before breakfast, his Omega pliant and keening under his weight, and then a second time, right on the floor in the hallway when Obi-Wan had left the nursery after nursing the pups, pants pooling somewhere around their ankles because they couldn’t wait. Obi-Wan’s heat would probably come in five, perhaps six weeks, and their hormones were already higher, pushing them together at every opportunity. Obi-Wan was wearing a plug every day to keep the slick and the semen from soiling too much pants.

He felt like whistling and saluted with a smile a running Tiplee, Tup a few seconds after her, in pursuit, the sounds of their laughs clear in the hallways. And then the sound of a commotion when they crashed into one of the couches disposed in the hallways. Jango would bet ten bucks clothes would fly.

He really started whistling, and damn his hardass image.  

Life was very good.

Of course two weeks later, when his seventeen years son came back from mission with a two years old red haired Force Sensitive girl, too skinny and fearful, and explained, his tone final: “This is Mara. Her parents are dead. I’m adopting her.”, Jango regretted lowering his guard.

Boba was too young to be a father and he was way too young to be a grandfather!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the Legends universe, Roganda Ismaren was a former Jedi Initiate who had escaped the Great Jedi Purge and become an Emperor's hand.


	26. Year 978 after the Russan Reformation

“We can’t take the clones on Coruscant. We can’t take Fett on Coruscant to meet the Council. Imagine the whole Temple coming online as Omega,” Mace Windu was saying.

“Nobody is taking me anywhere, I go where I desire,” Jango remarked, his tone hard.

The Omega Jedi, Jango, and two of the highest ranking’s clones were conferring, in the middle of nowhere, the ship stopped in their route to Coruscant.

“Perhaps we should take them to the Judicials,” Quinlan Vos proposed, his voice as hard. All the Jedi were more or less suspicious of the bounty hunter but Vos had apparently gone straight to hate, or dislike, or whatever the Jedi called it. Since Dooku wasn’t here to bear the weight of Vos’s anger in trying to prostitute poor Aaylala, Jango would do.

Jango was pretty sure the way Obi-Wan unconsciously always oriented himself to Jango, turning to him, seating near him, wasn’t helping. He had seen Vos’ gaze when Obi-Wan had touched Jango’s shoulder naturally. If Vos and Obi-Wan hadn’t fucked before, Jango would eat his helmet.

“Jango saved my life,” Knight Labooda remarked.

She was seated on the other side of the bounty hunter, and had apparently declared him trustworthy. When she was ready to take his head five hours before! Jedi really were a strange bunch. But whatever she said, he wasn’t ready to call her by her first name. Even if she had been wonderful with Boba when _Slave I_ had run from Genosis under heavy artillery to join the clones’ ships and his son had been fearful from his first glimpse of war.

“And we’re very grateful for that,” Kit Fisto immediately said, with a nod to Jango. “But it’s still very strange to find the template of the clones in theory commissioned by a missing Jedi, running around with Count Dooku.”

“He payed well,” Jango offered and received in answer the baffled gazes of the Jedi, Obi-Wan included.

It was a miracle they could function outside their Temple if greed was baffling them. Of course, Jango had motivation very different from the money when he had accepted to play template, but he couldn’t very well confess he had signed for the destruction of their Order. Even Obi-Wan was watching him strangely, perhaps sensing that it was almost a lie.

“Of course, he also offered me an unaltered clone,” Jango added, because he knew how to trick a Force Sensitive and the idea that he had done it for fatherhood made tension lower.

They debated together and he watched them. Soon, all of them would probably be dead. Something sour was in his belly at this idea when he caught their distressed scent. Of course they were distressed: the galaxy was on the verge of war, probably already in the thick of it since they had left Genosis, and they had just changed designation, a biological impossibility!

Still, they presented calm faces, their voices measured. Without the scent, he could have thought them without feeling, but now everything was in the open. He wanted to bundle them to safety, even the infuriating Vos, even if they were probably the most dangerous fighters in the world. It was a pity they were marked for death, in a way. They would have made glorious mates for the vode.

He observed Obi-Wan from the corner of his eyes.

Yes, they would have made wonderful mates. He let himself imagine it for a moment. Obi-Wan under him again, pliant and needy and lost in pleasure, his voice hoarse. Obi-Wan needing help to stand because his belly weighted too much, full of Jango’s pups. Obi-Wan’s body going softer from pregnancy to pregnancy.

He gritted his teeth. He was forgetting his objectives here.

“Jango?”

He suddenly realized he hadn’t been listening.

“Will you come with us?” Obi-Wan repeated.

“The day had been long and my mind wandered,” Jango said, hoping they couldn’t read in the Force that his mind wandered to a naked Obi-Wan taking every inch of his cock and begging for harder.

“We’re going back to Kamino. We can’t take the risks of infecting the rest of the Order.”

“Omeganess isn’t a disease,” Jango immediately said, bristling under the implication. The idiots Alpha who thought Omega less were braindead in his opinion. Jaster had been an Omega, Myles had been an Omega, and every insult to the Omega nature was an insult on them.

“No, but the way it happens to us isn’t certainly normal. Force Sensitives are Nulls, have always been Nulls. We won’t take risks. The Council will send Knights and Masters to Kamino, only volunteers.”

“But…if they change…If they become Omega like you, when they meet the clones?”

“Yes, they will never go back to Coruscant, like us.”

Jango looked at the other Jedi, grim-faced and silent, cut from their Temple, perhaps forever.

“The clones were trained for Jedi leading them,” Obi-Wan continued, looking at one of the clones present, an officer named Cody, who nodded in answer.

“And we won’t hide from our duty to the galaxy, even if it exile us from our Order.”

 

Two days after, the first two hundred Knights and Master, led by Master Bilaba, joined Jango, the clones and the first Jedi on Kamino, their travel pack full of suppressants. Deepa Bilaba had volunteered to be the member of the Council going to join her former Master, Mace Windu, and her sister Sar Labooda.

Jango let Knight Labooda introduce him as her friend, since he had understood that nice mannered or not, she wasn’t the sort to change her mind about it, and he waited to see what would happen to the new Jedi.

Four days after, they were all Omega.

The day after, the first legions left Kamino, led by the Jedi.

The clone wars had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't know who Jaster and Myles are, may I rec Jango Fett: Open Seasons ?


	27. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

“Some people never learn,” Jango remarked. Obi-Wan and he were seating together in the Tactical Room, observing the feed of information the Judicials on Coruscant had just sent.

Next to Jango, Grey, who had just been promoted to Commander, was taking notes. He would led the vod in this mission. Jango himself had refused, since Obi-Wan’s heat was approaching, and was only present because he disliked intensively their current target.

And he wasn’t the only one: next to Obi-Wan, Mace Windu was frowning and Jango did a double take: this expression had become so rare on Mace’s face! It was the first time since the birth of his quintuplet girls one month ago that the Omega joined a meeting, the time of overworked Jedi long past, and he was most of the time quietly happy and busy with his mate and their children. Ponds had just departed to bring back the quintuplets to the nursery of their quarters and Mace was pumping milk for their first litter already in the Crèche, and making faces at Wilhuff Tarkin’s warrant.

“How long was it since the vode ejected this man from the Albarrio Sector?”

“One year,” Jango answered. “There is one thing you can tell for him: he doesn’t let failure stop him from his plans to carve himself a position as emperor from a world or two.”

“Yes, and he doesn’t let things like democracy stop him either,” the fifty centimetres blue holotransmission of Chancellor Organa remarked. “And, as unpleasant as he is, he’s a smart man. Irmenu is a good world from a coup because of its isolation. Our chance is that one of the ruling families of the oligarchy contacted us and officially requested our help. They are ready to submit for Republic membership and to transition to a more democratic system if we gave them our help to stop Tarkin from putting the entire system under his boot.”

“Cody will be overjoyed,” Obi-Wan smiled. “He took personally Tarkin’s escape from the last battle in the vode’s intervention in the Albarrio Sector.”

“One of the mercenary who trained us was from his world,” Captain Rex said, already searching in their datapads to see if the man was still on the roster of occasional mercenaries working with the vode. “Walon Vau, yes, he’s on the list of person still accepting commission from us. He could give us an edge on this.”

Jango smirked. Tarkin and other sentients like him were slowly pushed out, little by little. Oh, people could gain a lot of power in the Republic still, but no more by violence. And democracy always made his lover more aroused that a pirate after a successful day of ravage. Their night after the first Tatooine’s elections had let Jango more tired than he ever had been in his life and with a smile who would have destroyed his reputation as the more fearsome bounty hunter in the galaxy if it had been seen outside of Kamino.

Not that they needed it but it was always nice to have Obi-Wan happy to see honest voting rules and freedom in another system. Obi-Wan should always be happy, in Jango’s opinion. Also, menaces taken earlier were always better than menace growing and one day becoming big enough to threaten his pack or the Republic they served.

After the meeting, Jango and Obi-Wan took a long walk into the different greenhouses together. It was nice to wander without really a goal, hand to hand, in a safe environment where Jango knew he would never be too late drawing his blaster because of the hand in his…because here, he was safe. Kamino was safe, his pack was safe, his mate and pups and all the other Omega were safe and something very old, very Alpha, purred in him.

His pack was safe.

They stopped in the kitchen of the cafeteria, where most of the unmated clones ate, and went with a basket full of sandwiches to the biggest greenhouse.

“Here?” asked Jango, finding a small pool surrounded by high foliage. That one had a gold and white mosaic and Obi-Wan good naturally took a dip, as naked as the day of his birth, in it, when Jango just took his shoes of and seated himself on the edge, admiring the shape of his lover in the water. Obi-Wan could say all he wanted they were more than their flesh, all that fair skin was the most delicious view. They could have believed themselves alone in the world if sometimes the sounds of other pools, laughs and groans of pleasure, didn’t resonate under the high glass and metal ceiling.

“You look hungry,” the Omega remarked with a smirk, “and not for food.”

“I’m always hungry for you,” Jango answered and it was true. Even at their complicated beginning, even when he tried to pretend he would let Obi-Wan die with the other Jedi, he had always hungered for him, for his mouth and his body, for his sweet submission.

Obi-Wan swam until he was between Jango’s legs and his Alpha tipped his head slightly with his hand under his chin, then caressed his cheek with a smile. The red hair were darker because of the water and his eyes seemed more brilliant than ever.

“You’re always so vibrant,” he whispered, his thumb against Obi-Wan’s lips and the Jedi, who was always ready to have sex in the same room as half dozen Jedi without problems, blushed and smiled as if it was the first time an Alpha offered him some attention. Obi-Wan opened his lips, sucking slowly on the thumb and red-faced or not, his mouth proudly proclaimed how good he had become at that. Jango felt his dick straining against his pants. He took the thumb out, pushing instead two fingers and Obi-Wan played with them, his tongue agile and indecent.

“My Omega, my beautiful, pretty, mesmerizing, sweet-smiling Omega” growled Jango and Obi-Wan purred at the words. His pupils were large and Jango wanted to mess him so hard, to see that mouth swollen and red and well-used.

“I think the lunch will wait a little,” He grinned wickedly and his lover keened, a lustful sound that tickled Jango’s fingers. With his other hand, the Alpha opened his pants and immediately the Jedi abandoned his finger to put a kiss on the head.

“I’m not the only one hungry”, Jango smiled at the fervour of his mate. Obi-Wan licked the flushed cock in small, eager flicks of his tongue and Jango swore, carding his fingers in his mate’s wet hair, pushing Obi-Wan’s face against his crotch. The Omega keened again, a noise of need that always made Jango’s lust skyrocket and when the Alpha pushed his cock into his mouth, he moaned, the vibration exquisite around the hard cock slowly using his mouth.

“Perfect,” Jango groaned, taking his time, savouring the moment. He was in no hurry: he had come already twice that day and his control was so much better that the one of young Alpha controlled by their knot.

Obi-Wan took him to the root, his throat opening easy under the weight of the cock and Jango held him there, blissed by the submission, Obi-Wan eager and obedient and ready to take everything his Alpha would give. Jango eased back and thrust again, building a rhythm slowly. He could hear the keens of pleasure of other Omega somewhere in the greenhouse and at the small passage in the foliage, Kit Fisto hand in hand with his own Alpha. The Nautolean smiled in seeing his fellow Omega like that, mindless with lust, his mouth put to good use, and gave them a nod before passing into another pool. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes were glazed and they finally closed, as Jango pusshed his cock inside to the hilt again, the Omega surrendering, limp and offered, and Jango backed a little, too close from orgasm. He wanted that moment to last. He stayed in the warm mouth, his hand petting his lover’s hair, until his control was better. He worked himself to the edge a second time, lazily pushing in and out, savouring the tight throat and the vibration of Obi-Wan’s moans. He could feel his knot ready to grow, the base of his cock already larger and the Omega’s mouth was red and swollen and the perfect view, stretched out like that and for a second, Jango hesitated between waiting again and coming. He pushed Obi-Wan down again and started to fuck his throat more roughly, using that sweet mouth until the pleasure was maddening and just too much and he came violently, his knot growing at its largest, pushing Obi-Wan’s jaw to its limits.

He came and he came and he came, as Alpha did, and Obi-Wan took everything, swallowing to milk everything he could. When the knot started to lessen after a few minutes, Jango drew back to let the last spurt fall on his lover’s face, paiting Obi-Wan’s lips in semen.

Panting, he helped him over the edge of the pool, pushing him into the mountain of pillows waiting here.

“Sweet thing,” he crooned with a sly smile and Obi-Wan keened. His voice was hoarse, perhaps not as much as it was after heat, but still a pretty nice sound in Jango’s opinion.

“Sweet, brilliant things like you deserve some very nice orgasm,” he promised, squeezing Obi-Wan’s bottom, and he leaned down on his lover, decided to make him lose his mind in pleasure.


	28. Year 978 after the Russan Reformation

 

The galaxy had never seen anything like the alliance of Jedi and clones. In any time, they would have been an efficient, lethal mix, but with the totally miraculous intervention of the Force…

How could have the Jedi reacted to the betrayal of their bodies but with anguish? Every day, when they struggled to shape themselves in the General needed by the vode, they presented calm expressions and classical Jedi aphorism…and every day, they smelled of grief and heartache. How could they react with something other than sadness, when they were exiled from Coruscant, probably forever, and when the galaxy asked of them something some different from their vows, asked them to take arms and lead armies?

In every universe, the Jedi suffered in the galaxy torn by war. But as Omega, they couldn’t hide it, from the clones or from anyone.

The first time Senator Organa, leading a relief effort, meet with High Generals Vos and Kenobi on Christophsis, he walked into the doorframe instead of entering the room. It was one thing to know the Jedi leading the army had changed, it was another to scent the sweet fertility of the two Omega, with the nippy undertones of their distress. Happily mated himself, he still needed to breathe slowly with the mouth to be sure he wouldn’t try to bundle them in covers in his ship, safe, safe of all the war.

“Sorry,” he said, when he saw Obi-Wan arch a brow. “It’s a little overwhelming.”, and Obi-Wan had a sad smile but said nothing. Later that night, Bail and Breha had the most satisfying comm sex in a long time and when Bail tried to apologize to his wife, thinking it was perhaps using here, she shushed him.

“When we decided to marry even though the both of us being Alpha, we knew how hormones would gave us problems conceiving and also let us sensitive to Omega’s scent. I’m not angry you were troubled by their scent.”

“As sweet as their scent is, it’s nothing against the sentiment I hold for you, my dove. I love you.”

Breha smiled. “I know.”

He fell asleep with the comm still open and her breathing in his ears. He woke up, as always, feeling blessed he was sharing the life of the most extraordinary woman in the galaxy and with an afterthought. Whatever would happen to the Jedi, he hoped if one day they mated, they would find the same love.

***

Three hundred other Jedi had followed their brethren, only Padawan-less Masters and Knights and every one of them, without exception, had followed the two hundred seven first Jedi’s fate, tumbling into Omega-ness with more or less grace.

And the clones….The clones were merciless to protect the Omega-Jedi, in a way that even impressed Jango himself.

On Christophsis, Whorm Loathsom, leading the Separasits droids army tried to win the battle in capturing Obi-Wan…the clones’ reaction was so violent only Quinlan Vos’ intervention saved the Separatist general’s life.

“What’s your name, trooper?” He asked the clone that had the first one struck down the enemy general.

“Slick, sir,” the clone answered, smiling despite a busted lip. With the rescue of his fellow Jedi and childhood friend, Quinlan suddenly smelled a little less like distress and a lot more like satisfaction and the smell was so sweet to the clone’ soul… Under the not so discreet smile and gaze, Quinlan felt something strange, like a desire to smile in return, to preen, perhaps and, coy like he hadn’t been since thirteen years old, he looked away. He still felt the other gaze on his back when he escorted their prisoner and it was intoxicating, like a caress, and made his heart race like only battle was supposed to do.

Obi-Wan and Quinlan had fallen into bed together on the first night on Christophsis, eager for the familiarity of their bodies, for a little closeness, but it hadn’t been like in their younger years. Orgasms, yes, but unsatisfying, calling for more, and they now spend the nights cuddling platonically, more lost than ever.

That night, Quinlan asked “How was it?” and Obi-Wan didn’t even pretend to miss the point.

“With an Alpha? Like…like being used and cherished at the same time. Ruthless and animalistic, but in a good way. Like…oh, there are no words.”

“You, you _Obi-Wan Kenobi_ , you’re not finding words! The galaxy really is upside down!”

“Oh hush, you….look, just…” And Obi-Wan let a good part of his shields fall, inviting Quinlan in a gesture of sharing that seemed so natural with a fellow Jedi, especially with Quinlan. It was even stronger with Quinlan and his special talents.

Under the memories of sensations, under the images of Jango and Obi-Wan, the phantom sensation of a knot, of an Alpha’s power weighting them down on a bed, Quinlan suddenly arched and came, and it was better than anything he had ever known. Caught in the backlash in the Force and in the memories of those days with Jango, Obi-Wan keened and tumbled into orgasm too.

“Kriff,” swore Quinlan, panting against his friend’s neck.

“Exactly”, quipped Obi-Wan.

“We’re doomed,” Quinlan insisted, his tone melodramatic, his forehead against Obi-Wan’ shoulder.

“Yes, I’ve come to the same conclusion, believe me. Now move, we’re disgusting. Dibs on the fresher.”

“Eh, you’re the one who shared the titillating porn!”

“Quinlan, that was not…You’re incorrigible.”

“And you like me that way.”

And for a second, bickering like they always had, they could pretend everything was normal.

That night, sleeping against Obi-Wan’s warmth, Quinlan dreamed of Slick, of that smile the clone had given him, then the dream morphed and he dreamed of what he had seen in his old friend’s mind, of the heat shared by Jango and Obi-Wan on Kamino. He dreamed himself in Obi-Wan’s place, of putting himself on display for an Alpha, of a cock breaching him, piercing him. He dreamed he was moaning when the knot came, but when he looked over his shoulder, it was Slick, not Jango, who was spending himself in his womb.

When he woke up, his pants were soiled.

“Yes, we’re doomed,” he mumbled.

He found Obi-Wan pale and sad near communication’s room.

“Did the Kerkoidien prisoner escape or something?”

“No. No, it’s…it’s Anakin. He’s being difficult.”

“It would be easier to list the times where he isn’t.”

“You’re not exactly helping.”

Quinlan sat down near his friend, putting a friendly on his shoulder in a silent show of support.

“He wants to fight,” Obi-Wan explained. “He feels…I don’t know, like we’re keeping him from glory or some stupid idea like that. I swear to the Force, as smart as he is, sometimes he can be so dumb!”

“All Padawans are banned from meeting the clones, and moreso from joining the army and fighting. We don’t need the risk of underage Jedi presenting, what he is thinking?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps, I fear that his power, so much more incandescent than us, make him believe he’s not concerned by rules. I did my best to fight this idea in his mind, but I must confess, it’s probably a gigantic failure.”

“Emm, Generals?” asked a voice.

They turned to face Commander Cody.

“We’ve just received a request of landing for a ship not included in the list of authorized vessels.”

“Then deroute him to another world, Commander.”

“I thought you would want to know, General. It’s _Slave I_.”

To Quinlan’s delight, apparent, and to his uneasiness, that he would hide, Obi-Wan blushed like a rising sun at those words, the name of Jango Fett’s ship enough to unsettle him.

“Doomed,” he only said, then he patted Obi-Wan’s shoulder again.


	29. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

It was the little noises of a pup that woke Jango up. Not full cries but the little ones that they made just before going into full despair because they were hungry, or wet and it was just not possible!

Next to him, Obi-Wan was still sleeping, a proof that the last day had been particularly busy, because he was in the habits to wake up as the same time as their pups, warned by the Force. But the last day had been the birthday of their first litter and there had been so many people and children and laughs that the poor Omega was exhausted. Jango pulled the sheet higher on his lover, smiling despite being woken up at two in the morning, then tiptoed outside the bedroom and into the nursery.

“Cranky, my pup?” He asked the little boy sniffing in his crib and smiled when the kid immediately stopped sniffing once in his arms. In the fridge, he took some milk Obi-Wan had pumped before going to bed and warmed it. Their triplets weren’t in the habits to have a meal in the middle of the night like that anymore, not at their age, but they hadn’t eaten their full meals in the evening, more preoccupied by all the people going in and out of the apartment:

Outside, a storm was raging, the Kaminoan sea ripped apart by terrible winds. It was a beautiful sight…seen from inside, in a warm room, with the weight of a pup against him and the sweet scent of the baby. The little boy drank half the bottle before going more sleepy than hungry. Jango put him in his crib again. His two brothers were waking up, probably hungry too.

He heard Obi-Wan’s voice: “Jango?” from the bedroom. Apparently the empty bed had succeed where the pups had failed: to wake up the Omega. Jango brought him the two pups and Obi-Wan, still half asleep, rolled in the bed without prompting, opening his light tunic. Soon, the little boys were nursing. Only a small lamp gave light in the bedroom and Obi-Wan and the pups made the perfect holo, the scene soft and easy. Jango would never be satiated of that: his Omega, nursing their pups, the pups that they had made together, when the heat was high and Obi-Wan keened for his knot. Jango’s pups. He hoped the future hold so many of them…

When it was done, he took them back to the nursery, already asleep. Sometimes, it still shocked him. All those litters. This gigantic pack. It had been just Boba and him against the world and now…

It was a good thing the galaxy had finally learned that Kamino was a dangerous place without an engraved invitation: there was no blood bath that would stop Jango to protect their lives.

In the bedroom, Obi-Wan was struggling with the pump, his breasts still too full.

“Let me,” said Jango, joining him on the bed, and Obi-Wan abandoned the pump. Jango lapped a nipple, enlarged by the successive pregnancies, and Obi-Wan gasped, the sound ending in a whine when Jango kissed the underside, chasing lost drops of milk and savouring the softness of his skin.

“I never understand how the same act can be so different when it’s you and when it’s the pups.”

“Your body knows me,” Jango said, almost purring from pleasure at the idea. He kneaded the flesh and his Omega moaned, milk leaking. He started to suckle and Obi-Wan’s hands came to caress his neck, the Omega’s little noises of pleasure a music in Jango’s ears. Obi-Wan spread his legs unconsciously and Jango’s hips rolled against him.

The Alpha loved his Omega’s body more every day. The weight that Obi-Wan didn’t shed between litters, the way he went pliant under him, the milk it gave to Jango’s pups, the mouth, warm and welcoming, and between the legs, that sweet hole that leaked slick for Jango, and that womb which quickened with his seed…That brilliant soul, that loving heart, in the most desirable body. Jango felt blessed.

“Marvellous,” he affirmed, before sucking a little harder. Obi-Wan was panting but didn’t urge him for more, only softly whining. Nature had been kind with all the Omega Jedi and Jango knew he could drink all he wanted: theirs pups wouldn’t lack. Obi-Wan was still nursing two litters or constantly opening his tunics the second a pup from another Jedi was hungry and the Omega parent not there. The milk was sweet under his tongue, the smell familiar and delicious…

“My Alpha”, Obi-Wan was purring and Jango, without stopping, struggled to push their pants lower. He loved the way their love making could be so different from one moment to another. It was a perfect middle of the night moment, not the sometimes almost violent way he mounted his mate when lust made him cross half the city in the afternoon just to bend Obi-Wan over the nearest surface. Not the way he loved to take his time in the evening, making him come three times on his fingers until Obi-Wan begged for his cock, voice hoarse, ass in the air, or even the shared shower in the morning when time was tight, when he came on Obi-Wan’s face, the Omega kneeling under the warm water, eagerly opening his mouth, semen maculating his face and torso, immediately washed by the spray.

 Here, he simply entered him, pushing to the hilt in one thrust and Obi-Wan clenched around him with a delighted, satisfied sound. He fucked him slow, still licking the milk that leaked from the heavy breasts, sometimes sharing the taste in long kiss, sometimes nipping at the mating scar. Obi-Wan caressed his back, carded his too long hairs with his fingers, Jango really needed a haircut, and keened under him, the sound almost wistful. The Alpha bit gently a shoulder, went back to the mating scar and Obi-Wan groaned.

“Alpha, Alpha… Soon, soon. My heat. I can’t wait. I can’t wait to bear you another litter.”

“How many you think?” Jango asked, raining kisses on the full breasts.

“Oh, so much. I want to be so heavy from your pups. Oh Jango, Alpha, like that, just like that, so full. I love your cock so much.”

“I will pump seed in you until you’re dripping. You’re leaving heat with a belly full of my pups,” Jango growled low, a promise, an oath, and Obi-Wan encouraged him to go faster.

It stayed gentle until the end, when the knot started growing and they shared a kiss that was more panting into each other mouth. Obi-Wan had a gentle sound when the knot caught the rim of his hole for the first time, before forcing his way inside, growing more and tying them, and he arched and he came between them. He clenched around the knot, milking it and Jango groaned and came and came and came, emptying himself into the offered body.

When he eased out, they kissed slowly and Jango pushed two fingers into him, marvelling on how full of sperm Obi-Wan was. A male Alpha, in one orgasm, produced ten times as much semen as a male Omega or male Beta, and it was dripping of Obi-Wan, his fingers producing a wet sound. Obi-Wan had a small sound of satisfaction. Even outside of heat, he liked being wet from Jango’s come.

“Put a plug in me. I don’t want to be empty right now,” the Omega asked.

Jango left the bed to bring back a warm tissue for the mess and a plug, then they rolled into each other arms again.

“Soon”, Obi-Wan whispered again and it was the most delicious pledge. 


	30. Year 978 after the Russan Reformation

 

Even after three months of war, it was still strange for Jango to see his clones fighting for real. He had anticipated he would be long gone, disappeared into the Outer Rim with Boba, when the clones saw action. But months after the beginning of the war, he was still there, playing military advisor, Boba safe on Kamino, elected base by the exiled Jedi.

And those clones fated to die in a staged war, he saw them gaining individuality every day. He saw them forging friendship with the Omega Jedi and the thought of the chip made him a little more nauseous every day.

He had seen Fox, commander of the guards of Kamino, and Adi Gallia growing closer, the Alpha certainly interested in more, what would happen to him after Order 66, would he regain suddenly his liberty of thoughts and realize…

He had seen clones, always respectful of Omega, reaching out and Jedi, a little surprised, a little unsure, reaching back. He had seen the longing in Ponds’s eyes when Mace Windu left a room and the two vode who followed Depa Billaba like murderous puppies. He had seen Bly keeping the small sweets that came with caf in the officers mess to offer Aayla when she was feeling down and the way the Jedi always consulted him first.

And the Jedi themselves…He had finally relented and was calling Knight Labooda by her first name, Sar. She was a quiet person, peaceful, and thought Jango saving her life was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, like a sign of the Force. He sparred with Mace Windu and it was the most challenge he had knew in years. He would even recognize that Windu would have beaten him if they had fought to death for the first time, instead of a friendly match. Now, he won two of ten matches and Windu always seemed charmed when he was defeated. “It’s been a long time since I had the occasion,” he had said to Jango once and he had seemed grateful for it!

And the young Knights, still wet behind the ears…They were at the same time terribly wise and so painfully young. Between missions, they had taken upon themselves to brighten the education of the clones, cadets principally but also all those who wanted.

Preoccupied with the war and the future, Jango had needed almost a month to realize Boba sneaked out twice a week to join an evening group started by a Hysalrian Knight wounded in battle and convalescing on Kamino. The Knight was teaching music, more specifically how to play cavernhorn to a group of young cadets and Boba had been jealous. It was painful for Jango to realize he hadn’t even thought about music or art in Boba’s teachings. It wasn’t really something that interested himself, but Boba was his own person.

Clones and Jedi died. It was like a punch in the gut. When one of the lineage brother of Sar Labooda was killed, she slept on Jango’s couch for three days and in the mornings, Boba insisted his buir had to do pancakes for his grieving friend.

More Jedi came to Kamino, grim faced and ready for their fate. An old, very old, healer, who had insisted to join too, was the only one to not present as an Omega, something he qualified of relief. When his bloodwork was studied, he presented all the characteristics of an old Omega, too old for heat and pups bearing, but still, an Omega.

“It’s likely our elders and younglings won’t present if they are not of age for their species,” commented Mace Windu once the medics and healers had explained their findings. “It’s good to know that if necessary, if we need too much adults Jedi in this war, we could entrust the children of the Creche and the Padawans to the vode, as a last resort.”

And Jango wanted to throw up at that idea.

Most of the time, he tried to not think about Obi-Wan, and for three months, he had succeed in pretending it worked. The second he saw him on Christophsis, he knew he had lied to himself. It was difficult to stop himself at a handshake: he wanted to dipkiss him until the other man knew nothing more than Jango’s name!

The Omega seemed sincerely happy to see him and Quinlan Vos, the other Jedi on planet, was tentatively friendlier with him than after Genosis. He realized quickly the two Jedi were sharing a bed. His first instinct was jealousy but he stomped on it: Obi-Wan and he weren’t mates. Then he realized they never wore the satisfied scent of Omega with a good night behind them in the morning. He thought about it. The classical Alpha answer in that sort of position should be to fantasize about joining them, but no. He could appreciate Vos: the man was too dangerous to not spark professional respect in Jango, but the only Jedi Omega he wanted to knot had red hair, too much sass, and the most beautiful ass in the galaxy.

What the kriff was happening to him?

A Republic’s envoy made some remark about the two Omega, some of those remarks that weren’t surprising but still a proof that a lot Alpha saw Omega as nothing more than playthings to breed. The day after, he fell down some stairs, that was the official version even if a mindful medic would probably ask if those stairs were wearing plastoid gauntlets, and decided to go back to the Core for his recovery. Jango, who only had been waiting for an occasion, felt very proud of the vode, who had been quicker than him.

On the last assault against Republic positions, he flew into battle, jetpack roaring against his back. Here he was, defending the Republic. Defending the Jedi. The Force was probably laughing at him somewhere. The Republic won and they celebrated. Jango drank with the clones and the Jedi and quietly marvelled at the culture the clo…the culture the vode were already developing. The vode, he needed to remember the name they had chosen for themselves.

The vode.

He saw a clone sergeant whose name he couldn’t remember flirt with Vos and Vos biting his lips, had apparently difficulty meeting the vod’s gaze, suddenly coy. Vos, who Jango had seen during the battle flip a tank with the Force and send it into the droids’s ranks. When he lost sight of them in the party, the sergeant had his hand on Vos’s knee, speaking low to him, their two heads close, and Vos was smiling.

Jango drank heavily that night. Everyone drank heavily. And at dawn, he put a blanket on Obi-Wan and Vos, sleeping entwined in front of one of the last fire. They had the same note in their scent, like Omega of the same pack developed. He felt the vode looking at him, protective of the two Omega, even against Jango. If he had touched even only the Omega’s cheeks when they were sleeping, he was sure blasters would have been drawn.

In the end, it was easy to choose. There was no big moment, no long insomnia trying to ponder his decisions. He just turned to Cody and said: “I need a joint holocall with all the vode commanders and some of the head medics. With the most discretion possible.”

Cody simply nodded and the carefully crafted plans of the Sith started to fold like wet sand against the rising sea.


	31. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

 

“The blue bag too?” Jango asked, trying to jungle with three bags already, plus a case in metal and a baby carrier.

“Oh, and perhaps we should take their blankets too?” Obi-Wan mused, deep into the small chests of the nursery.

“Pretty sure Tachi and Jesse have blankets.”

“But it wouldn’t be theirs.”

“Ok, ok.” Jango put on the floor the luggage he was carrying and went to put his hands on Obi-Wan’ shoulders.

“Take a deep breath for me.”

“Don’t patronize me!”

“I’m not, love. Breathe…The pups will be very happy to have a five days impromptu vacation. They will be as well with Jesse and Tachi and their pups that their elders have been with Anakin and his mates for your previous heats.”

“But Anakin is in the habits to take care of more pups if necessary…”

“He’s also so close to term it’s a miracle of the Force he can move. Jesse told me they already took care of other pups in case of heats of their parents and their twin are only two months older than the triplets. It will perfect and when they come back, they will be happy and well and your womb will be full of their future siblings. Everything will be well.”

He kissed Obi-Wan’s brow, as the other grumbled. Omega were prone to worry about their pups just before heat, but his mate was most of the time more in control than that.

This heat would probably be particularly strong.

“We’re taking the blankets,” Jango said, because Omega were prone to worry but Alpha too wanted for their pups to feel safe while their parents made the next litter!

Jango liked Siri Tachi. A spitfire who never let Obi-Wan lose himself in his own head and he wasn’t even jealous that they had had a thing, younger. Obi-Wan was _his_ and everyone who had spent more than ten minutes with Tachi and Jesse understood how complementary they were, how happy they were.

Anakin had difficulties standing on his own right now, Boba was in a mission in the Inner Rim, Mace Windu had five one-month old and Jango would never, ever let Quinlan babysit again, even if Obi-Wan asked on his knees, so Tachi was a good choice.

They shared a lunch with the other pair, talking about their pups and about Tachi’s work. The blond woman was one of the rare Jedi leaving Kamino regularly. Mother of four pups, two sets of twins, she had specialized in dismantling slavers rings. Most of the time, she worked from Kamino, planning strikes with Judicials and the special task force of the vode dedicated to this cause, but sometimes she went out with Cody, the one in charge of that particular types of missions.

They let the triplets in the other apartment, with some difficulties on the parents’s part! The triplets didn’t seem to care, smelling of peace and comfort, already sleeping between Tachi and Jesse’s twins.

When they were back to their apartment, Obi-Wan was already blushing and fidgeting, and that would have been a clue even without the pre-heat scent.

“I’ll draw us a bath,” Jango said and let him consult methodically his comm’, three times, because his Omega needed to be sure everything was in order before surrendering to the heat. He had good memory of that first bath, all these years before, and it had become a ritual between them when the hormones played with Obi-Wan’s calm. In the water, he massaged his mate’s shoulders until Obi-Wan boneless against him.

“I was a mess all morning and you spoil me,” the Omega remarked, his head against Jango’ shoulders, theirs hands entwined.

“I like spoiling you,” Jango rumbled, his voice low, kissing his hair, “I just want to help you feel better. I know the last hours before heat are hard.”

“You always makes me feel better. Outside of heat, just before when it’s difficult, every time.”

A smirk and his free hand slipped into the water, palming Jango’s cock which had been half hard since the morning, when he had smelt Obi-Wan’s pre-heat

“And you’re very good when I’m in heat, too.”

Laughing, Jango gave him a sloppy kiss. Obi-Wan didn’t brought him to orgasm. The anticipation had something sweet in the twelve last hours, when the frenzy of the last days where they had been all over each other let place to a simple desire to cuddle and be together, waiting for the first peak.

After a good soak, they relocated on the couch, demolishing a big box of Aldenaraan sweets send by Breha, every calorie a good idea before the heat, and watching some mindless holodramas, in which Jango could never remember who was sleeping with who and who was the long lost twin of who. He didn’t care: the important thing was his mate and his sweet scent… They were on their third episode, dozing off despite the noise of the screen, when the heat hit.

Jango woke up to Obi-Wan climbing on his lap, opened his mouth to the desperate kiss before even really realizing it. He took control of the kisses, turning them from frantic to hard, commanding the rhythm. Obi-Wan was keening, distressed sounds.

“Shhh,” Jango patted his back like a spooked animal. “I’m here. I’m gonna give you what you need. Be a good Omega, sweet-scented thing, ner Jedi, shhh.”

He put his hands under Obi-Wan’s rear and stood up. Obi-Wan whined into the kiss at the show of strength and yelped when Jango threw him on their bed. The Alpha was on him in a second, pushing him into the mattress, holding him down and kissing his throat with sometimes small nips.

Between them, Obi-Wan was hard rock and the scent was getting sweeter any second, his body trying its hardest to attract his Alpha as it was getting more fertile minute by minute.

“I’m gonna kriff you so hard,” Jango growled.

Obi-Wan nodded frantically. Jango had been right: the heat was a hard one if his lover was already non verbal. He took of his pants and the Omega keened when he saw his cock, already dripping, the base slightly enlarged, the knot ready to pop. The Jedi choked out an eager whimper.

“I will let you suck it later if you’re good,” smirked Jango, earning himself another whimper. He made quick work of the rest of their clothes and kissed him again. Under him, Obi-Wan was writhing, caught between the impulse to stay where his Alpha put him and the instinct to turn over his belly to present. He was the most gorgeous of view, flushed and ready, his eyes glazed from the heat, keening softly, with the softness the successive litters had left on his body and his heavy breasts.

Leaning down, Jango suckled lightly one of them. The milk came immediately and he groaned, drinking and feeling himself grow harder at this proof of his Omega’s fertility. He went back to his lover’s mouth to share the taste of the milk, before moving to let his lover turn. There would be other times to play with each other, to make it last, now was not that time.

Obi-Wan knelt on his hands and knees in the middle of the bed. He was almost trembling from the heat and Jango knelt behind him, knot already throbbing, ready to grow. The first time never lasted long, the hormones were too high. He pressed a hand on Obi-Wan’s neck and the Omega went down on his elbows, arching his ass and presenting, legs spread and body offered.

Jango pressed two fingers inside him, to check how wet and open he was. There was no chance that Obi-Wan wasn’t ready but the Alpha would never take risk with his lover. There was a discontent noise from the man under him and he growled in answer.

“Don’t make me tie you.”

“Alpha…” Obi-Wan keened.

“You’ll take my cock as I tell you, when I tell you,” and smirked when the tone made Obi-Wan whimper weakly. He took his fingers out and mounted him in a violent thrust. Obi-Wan yelled, a begging sound without words.

“Every inch of it,” Jango groaned against the skin of his back, kissing a constellation of freckles. “You’re gonna take every inch of my cock, ner Omega, sweet thing…M’ gonna breed you so good. Full of my pups.”

And Obi-Wan whined and begged every time Jango bottomed up. He was wet and tight around Jango’s cock and the Alpha pounded him with all his strength, Obi-Wan keening.

His knot swelled, locking Jango’s cock inside his lover. Obi-Wan whimpered, too breathless to yell anymore, and came all over the sheets, squeezing tight around the knot to milk the semen into his womb.

Jango cautiously rolled them on their sides, stuck by the knot, kissing the bonding mark. His hand was on his Omega’s belly, spread wide, proprietary. Obi-Wan’s hand joined it and Jango’s smiled against his neck.

“You’re breeding me…” Obi-Wan said in the silence of the room, something marvelled in his voice. “I can feel the spurts of your knot…” Jango purred something indistinct and kissed the mark again.

When the knot deflated, Obi-Wan rolled on his back with Jango’s help. The Omega was boneless from pleasure, smiling and sweet. They kissed slowly, whispering sweet words to each other. Jango took the bottle of water on the night stand and insisted until Obi-Wan had drunk half of it, then wiped them at best. Milk was leaking and Jango drank at length, Obi-Wan’s fingers carding his hairs. He liked that: the scent of slick, of sex, and the Omega body limp under him, simply there, Jango’s, that marvellous body which would soon be weighed down by Jango’s pups. The milk was sweet under his tongue, richer in sugar than any other day: in heats, Alpha had always drunk from their Omega and they needed the energy.

He spread the Omega’s legs to admire his entrance, glistening, red and swollen, then eased inside again, already hard again, making him mewl.

“Ner Jedi,” he soothed. “Open up for me. I’m gonna empty in you so many time you’ll have the biggest litter in history. Gonna give me pups, love?”

“Yes. Yes, Jango, mount me. Breed me. Fill me. All your pups.”

“Fuck, so tight. How can you be so tight?”

“For you. Made for you. Alpha…”

Jango thrusted again, his endurance better now that they had come already once, fucking him hard and deep for a long moment, savouring the yielding, the babbling of his lover, the way he bared his throat submissively.

“Such a good Omega,” he groaned when he bottomed out one last time, his knot locking them together and again Obi-Wan came from the sensation only, stretched open around the knot and going limp as semen flooded him.

“Breed you so good…” Whispered Jango again then he bit on the mating mark, hard, and Obi-Wan yelled and came again, helplessly, before passing out.


	32. Year 978 after the Russan Reformation

In true Skywalker’s fashion, Anakin entered the scene with a bang.

He was the most powerful of Jedi, he didn’t care if he was still a Padawan, he should be a Knight already, he reasoned, and Obi-Wan had only hold him back because he was jealous!

The Temple was under lock down, since so many of the adults were fighting far away, and he couldn’t steal one of their ships, his first idea. The Chancellor offered him his help. Later, when everything was resolved, he would ask himself what the Sith had hoped to attain with that move, and would conclude that Omega were so unimportant into Sidious’s mind that he never imagined Anakin, the Chosen One, the results of Plagueis’s manipulation of the Force, could become one. It was good for the Jedi, weak as they were. Sidious had probably thought his future champion would be unaffected and gain like that a reputation as incredibleness, the Jedi who didn’t turn into an Omega, and that it would serve his cause.

So, Anakin took the ship and flew to war. There was a standoff somewhere in the Mid Rim, Separatist Force and Republic Forces taking, losing to each other, then taking again, a space station named Ringo Vinda. He would go there, win the day, and the Jedi would be forced to knight him. They were only holding him back, he would prove them!

Of course, it didn’t work that way.

First, the lines of engagement had moved from the moment he launched the ship into his last hyperspace jump to the moment he arrived, and Anakin found himself deep into Separatists lines, ship shoot down and captured. Oh, he destroyed a bunch of clankers before capture: he was powerful after all, but what could he do against those sheer numbers? He destroyed enough to make his capture costly, but at the end, he was still stunned and dragged to the enemy commander, Admiral Trench. Trench had installed his command post in the most defensible room in the part of the space station they had taken from the clones. So, of course, the room when the clones had installed their own command room, days before, until they had to evacuate.

The Admiral had established a communication with the Republic Force on the other side of the station, to negotiate their surrender or the death of the captured Jedi. Two hundreds clones had once abandoned an inexpungable position to avoid their Jedi’s execution, and died in the process, and the Admiral hoped to repeat it.

Anakin had only the time to take a good look at the Admiral, opened his mouth to say something unsavoury, then he had started folding at the knees, keening, panting, in the thrall of pre-heat. The Admiral was extremely surprised. The clones, on the other side of the screen, went from calm and ready to murderous rage in a nano-second, red creeping on the edge of their vision.

Songs could have been told about the battle of Ringo Vinda. Songs would have been told, and the movements of the troops studied, if some documents could have been salvaged, but nothing would survive, except in the memories of the survivors. The station itself sustain so many damages it was evacuated and exploded ten minutes after the last shuttle left.

Three quarters of the vode who had been there died in their efforts to rescue the Omega, and the Separatists army was annihilated, Admiral Trench killed in the battle.

An Arc Trooper named Fives was the first to reach the Jedi prisoner, who immediately knelt and tried to open his codpiece. Fives slapped a hypospray full of their strongest suppressant cocktail into his neck and hauled him standing by the scruff of his neck, despite the Jedi’s protests. It was a good thing the Padawan was already too lost to heat to use the Force.

Around them, the station was falling apart with fireworks, the artificial gravity getting of and on every ten seconds.

The moment they were in the evacuation ships, they thrown the Jedi into a cell with another dose of chemicals and a bunch of dildos. With proper medication, passing a heat alone with the help of an artificial knot was possible, if not very comfortable, and the man was clearly not in the correct state of mind to give consent to a vod helping him.

Even with the air filtering system, the vode still perceived his scent during all their trip to Kamino and it was a very long trip, half hard, mourning, with not enough vode to man correctly the ships, reciting the name of their dead whose bodies hadn’t been retrieved.

Four hundred vode had died to rescue Anakin Skywalker and in the too silent ships, their brothers told their names to the stars, to be sure they would never be forgotten.

Unknown of them, at the same moment, on the other side of the galaxy, Jango was nursing with swear swords the concussion Cody had given him in the name of all the vode. The commander had already moved on and was planning with his fellow commanders, tone urgent.


	33. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

 

There was no word to describe a heat. Obi-Wan had tried but even him, silver tongued as he was, had always failed short. The scorching heat inside, the hormones, the aching, the need more powerful than anything, the slick running on the tight, the emptiness…

There was no word and, alone, it could have been terrifying.

But he wasn’t alone. When he woke up, already panting, mindless with desire and with this craving making his belly tight, he felt his Alpha rolling against his back. He would have recognized Jango without hesitating in a line-up of thousands of clones and here, in the pre-dawn light, he whined when he felt their skins touching.

“Sweet thing,” crooned his Alpha’s voice and there was a small nip on the mating scar. He arched against the strength behind him and there was a chuckle.

“Soon,” his Alpha said, nipping his shoulder.

Two fingers eased inside him. He was impossibly slick, impossibly open and it wasn’t enough to quench the burn, the emptiness. He keened slowly, impaling himself on them.

“Look at you,” Jango murmured, “So slick, so warm. Perfect thing. Gorgeous love. So tight, even after all those knots, all those pups.”

Obi-Wan keened again, mindless. The fingers left him then came back, four of them. It was better, if not what he wanted.

“Patience, love. Don’t want to make you sore. Just want to be sure.”

A callused hand was caressing his belly, large and strong and Obi-Wan didn’t know in which hand he wanted to push for more.

“A belly full of pups,” his Alpha promised, and Obi-Wan wanted, wanted so hard, to be weighted down, his breasts always leaking like they did on his last month of pregnancy, to fell his litter move inside and the gaze of Jango on him. Words were hard in that state, but he fought until they rose to his lips.

“Breed me. Knock me up. Alpha, alpha, mount me…”

Jango nipped his neck a last time and helped him roll over his belly. Obi-Wan’s awareness drift away, even the thoughts of the pups secondary. The weight of his Alpha on him was the only thing real and the yearning for his knot. When the blunt head of the cock impaled him, he yelled, a breathless sound of joy.

The Alpha pushed until he was totally in him, grunting, and then eased back. Obi-Wan rocked his hips as a demand for more and his Alpha bit gently his neck as a warning. Obediently, the Omega went limp, let him do what he wanted with him. He was immediately rewarded: Jango started to pound into him relentlessly, and Obi-Wan mewled under the assault, noises of shocked pleasure every time the cock possessing him touched his prostate. He could feel slick running on his tights and power behind the thrusts. It was inescapable and perfect.

He was as open in the Force as his body was to his Alpha, shields down and his entire being offered. He could feel them. Their pack. Strong and happy and protected and safe. His pleasure was the joy of hundreds of Jedi, his satisfaction was the comfort of hundred clones. He could feel Quinlan, laughing while Slick was attacking his clothes and Anakin, round and perfect, glowing from joy as a pup nursed against him, and Mace, napping against Ponds, and Adi, bend over a table by Foxes, and Pong Krell, taking at the same time the knots of Boil and Waxer, and Luminara, in the birthing room with Gree caressing her hair and her hard work to birth the three pups of their new litter and Ki-Adi, happy and proud, watching as his Alpha Jet knotted one of their wives and Kit Fisto sleeping, still knotted…

He could feel everything, the joy, the love, the fierce, protective, possessive love of the vode for their Jedi, and at the centre of everything, Jango, mounting him with such strength, Jango, who had kept him and loved him and breed him; Jango, who changed the heats from frightening to wonderful, Jango, whose seed would spark life deep in him and whose pups would drink Obi-Wan milk…

When the growing knot caught his rim for the first time, Obi-Wan arched and came so hard it was almost painful. The Alpha didn’t stop and continued to mount him, piercing him to the core, and Obi-Wan couldn’t stop his yells at every merciless thrust, the pleasure mind-blowing. A second orgasm rose, impossible and unmistakable, and he obeyed his body, tumbling into a delirious pleasure. With a growl, Jango pushed into him even harder once, twice, and the knot grew to its largest size, stretching Obi-Wan and locking them together as the Alpha came. Obi-Wan could feel the spasms of his body milking the seed and he whined, breathless, helpless, at the sensation of his womb being filled with that warmth. He loved that Alpha came so much, that he needed a plug after being mounted, for there was so much of it.

“Perfect”, Jango purred, and his voice was hoarse and so, so satisfied.

“Gorgeous, sweet-scented, perfect Omega. Milk me, sweet thing. Gonna breed you so good. For everybody to see. Take it, love. I know you love my knot.”

They stayed like that until the knot was small enough for Jango to disengage but he kept Obi-Wan in the same position until he had pushed a plug into him. It wasn’t really necessary: in heat, an Omega was so fertile that conception was assured but Obi-Wan wouldn’t want to lose any of the seed.

Obi-Wan let Jango clean him up and accepted the water and the tubers, even if he wasn’t really hungry, his mind too full of the heat. He loved obeying him, the quiet approval when Jango saw the empty bowl.

After, the Alpha helped him with the pump and it was good, a different sort of pleasure, but satisfying to the heat, if in another way. The proof of fertility. The eyes of Jango on his enlarged nipples, on the weight his breasts had gained, on his larger hips. While he pumped his milk, his Alpha caressed his belly, kissed his neck, murmuring words of love and lust.

“Such a good omega,” Jango complimented when two bottles of milk where full and he left to put them in the pneumatic system they had in the living room, to send them to the Crèche. Obi-Wan wanted to preen under the words. The heat was strong, but not at its peak yet again and when the Alpha came back, Obi-Wan offered his mouth. He wanted to feel him in every way he could, to be _his_ , his only, taken in every way possible. He licked and sucked and moaned, Jango curling around his head, and when the Alpha took control, Obi-Wan moaned softly under the sensation. With the years, he had become very good at that and his throat opened under the weight, it only made him happy, made him harder, his own cock dripping between his legs.

He took it eagerly and when Jango knotted his mouth, he felt his eyes roll and semen splashing his tights, and he swallowed everything. Jango was still half swollen when he took his cock out, hormones as hard on his body as they were on Obi-Wan. The last spurt of semen fell on Obi-Wan’s lips and he licked it out, refusing to let even that lost, even if he had a full belly of it. A little had dribbled onto his breasts and his Alpha used his fingers to bring it to Obi-wan’s mouth. The Omea licked it out, his eyes fixed on his Alpha.

Jango took his mouth in a long, deep kiss and then commanded: “On your knees, hands on the headboard” and Obi-Wan scrambled to obey.

There was no word to describe a heat.

But with Jango, the word perfect was a good choice.


	34. Year 978 after the Russan Reformation

They would be on Kamino in three days and if the vibes that Obi-Wan seemed to broadcast were true, his Padawan better be ready for some ass-kicking.

“Of all the stupid things to do, narrow-minded, irresponsible child! See if I Knight him before he’s forty years old!” He had grumbled, before catching Quinlan by the hand and disappearing into the bowels of the Star Destroyer taking them from Christophis to Kamino.

Jango had said nothing: he had once planned to use his clones to slaughter the entire Jedi order and it felt strange to know so many of them had given their lives freely for a Jedi. The vode were still giving him the cold shoulder but they had perfectly, understandable reason, and he wasn’t alone: Boba had insisted to be on the Star Destroyer that had come for them. They finished their dinner in their small quarters and then played a game, until his son’s eyes were closing. He put him to bed, kissed his brows and closed the door.

On his datapad, he entered a series of codes and opened the most secret document of the GAR: the progression of the de-chipping. The clones had decided to keep that secret from the Jedi for now: they didn’t want to take the risk of a loss of trust at his crucial point. It was the official version: Jango, personally, believed the clones simply weren’t ready for the distress the Jedi would feel. He closed it again when the door buzzed, opened another document, this one simply a rapport on Christopis, and went to open.

Pale and un-happy scented, Obi-Wan was at the door.

“Can I…Can I enter for a minute?”

Without a word, Jango designed the couch.

“Did something happen? Are we rerouted?”

“Why would we-…Oh, oh no, I just… I just wanted to see you.”

Jango went to the small kitchen and prepared them some infusion, then they sat together, drinking slowly.

“Is this about your Padawan?”

Obi-Wan grimaced.

“It seems I failed in instilling some obeisance in him. He will present his condolences for the vode, once he’s clear-minded again, and be sure he will be punished.”

Jango nodded and waited. That didn’t explain why Obi-Wan was here, but the only interrogation technique he knew that wasn’t violent was to wait and hoped people would talk to avoid a too long silence.

“I didn’t want to stay alone.” Obi-Wan finally said.

“Vos?”

“He’s…he’s with Sergeant Slick,” Obi-Wan eyed went almost vacant and then he said, like he was Seeing the scene: “I think he’s trying to take a knot for the fir-“

“Obi-Wan!” Jango protested, red rising on his face.

“What?”

“Are you sure you’re supposed to tell me that? Are you sure you’re supposed to _know_ that!!”

There was only incomprehension in Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“Quinlan is my brethren, my crèche-mate. I always know.”

“How?!”

“Well, it’s in the Force, of course. Like when I know when he’s in danger.”

“You know that for all kriffin Jedi?”

“The closer only of course. The ones I have known for a long time. And proximity help. I can’t be linked to all Jedi personally. You’re very red, are you fine?”

“Obi-Wan, you…they…. Don’t tell that to people who aren’t Jedi or vode, ok?”

“But why?”

“… Just don’t. I will explain one day when I’m drunk enough.”

And Obi-Wan nodded, baffled but trusting.

Jango took a careful sniff. Obi-Wan was smelling lonely, unmated and tired, and there was an undercurrent that smelled like Vos and Windu and all Omega Jedi. They were definitely developing in a pack, their scents slowly mixing.

And unmated Omega weren’t left alone by a pack.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?”

Obi-Wan seemed surprised and Jango corrected immediately: “To sleep. I won’t touch you against your will, you know that.” He grimaced and said again, guilt in his guts:

“I won’t touch you against your will again.”

Obi-Wan took his hand.

“Don’t. It wasn’t against my will.”

“It wasn’t exactly your idea either.”

“No, and it wasn’t yours. You took what could have been my end and protected me. It was…it wasn’t what you seemed to think. I felt safe. Protected.”

“You were frightened.”

“The first time. Of the unknown. But you were there for me and you gave me such pleasure and such joy.”

Jango couldn’t meet his gaze.

“You were good for me,” Obi-Wan insisted, and Jango finally nodded but more because he didn’t want that line of conversation to continue.

He gave Obi-Wan some tunics and loose pants and opened his bed. He thought of sleeping on the couch, even if it was hard and unforgiving, but Obi-Wan had an exasperated noise and patted the other side of the bed, and Jango joined him.

The Jedi was soon sleeping but Jango couldn’t. He stayed like that, observing, his lungs full of Obi-Wan’ scent. He was jealous of Slick, he realized. He didn’t want Vos, no, but he was jealous of how easy things seemed to develop between the other Alpha and the Jedi. He tried to imagine what would happen if Slick mated the Jedi, tried to imagine Quinlan Vos round from a litter. It was less bizarre he would have thought months ago, they would make a good pair.

But of course, Slick had never complotted the genocide of Vos’s people as Jango had done! He wanted to tell everything to Obi-Wan, but…it would change things. The friendship that was developing, the trust…Would Obi-Wan ever sleep against him like that, trusting Jango to protect him, if he knew Jango had knew even the Younglings were supposed to be killed?

He finally slept and in his dreams, it was Boba the vode gunned down, eyes empty and another will behind them.

He woke up when he heard his son going to the fresher in the morning and he left the bedroom as silent as he could to have breakfast with him. His son was still half asleep but Senator Organa was on the ship and adored children: every morning, he taught Alderaan botany to Boba. Another thing Jango had never thought about integrating in Boba’s cursus, but the young boy took to new knowledge like a sponge.

Obi-Wan left the bedroom the second Boba had left, and Jango suspected he had been awake for a moment but didn’t want the question his presence would have generated.

“Tea?” He offered and Obi-Wan came to sit in the small kitchen. He was smelling like Jango, wearing the sleep clothes of the Alpha, his red hair still dishevelled, and he seemed soft and accessible. The Alpha busied himself with the tea to not touch.

They drank in silence, next to each other, gazes meeting and fleeing each other successively.

Years after, they would still not know who had moved first. One second, they were drinking tea, and the second after, Jango was pressing Obi-Wan against the table and they were kissing furiously. Jango yanked on their sleeping pants until they were lost on the floor and urged Obi-Wan on the table. There was a crash as some dishware broke in falling, but they didn’t stop kissing. Hunger was stirring deep into Jango’s belly, a hunger that only that sweet mouth could ever help. And Obi-Wan was in the same state if the strength which his legs closed around Jango’s hips was a sign. They didn’t speak. Jango simply pushed a hand between them, scratched Obi-Wan’s hips earning himself a long groan, muffled by the kisses, then pushed him a little more on the table to have access. Against his fingers, Obi-Wan was oozing slick. He whimpered at the first finger, groaned at the second, swore at the third.  

Jango trembled when he pushed his legs more open and pushed inside and Obi-Wan’s eyes were immense, black from desire. He tightened around Jango with a laugh and the Alpha started to move, surging against him in hard thrusts, Obi-Wan’s arms falling on the edge of the table, scrambling for support to push bak against the thrusts. More things meet their end on the hard floor and the scent of food, sex and slick mingled in the small room.

It was quickly finished, the lust too strong: Jango rocked a last time between the strong legs and almost roared, knot popping. He scrambled until he had a hand around Obi-wan’s flushed sex and the Omega came too with a noise like he had been punched.

Awkwardly, Jango sat down on a chair, Obi-Wan on his lap, still tied, face and face and still with their tunics. The Omega’s eyes were so pure, so trusting, that Jango hid his face in his throat, his hands caressing the sweaty back under the tunic.

As if things weren’t complicated enough.

When a freshly showered Obi-Wan left, he asked:

“Will you come earlier tonight?”

There was surprise in Obi-Wan’s posture.

“I won’t teach Boba that adult relationships is something to hide, something shameful. If you want to come again tonight, come earlier and have dinner with us.”

Obi-Wan smiled and left and Jango swore the second the door was closed.

He was kriffed.


	35. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

The beep signalling the twenty minutes count down before the exit from hyperspace sounded in the cabin where Jango was busy shining his gauntlet. He had polished all his armour and it was nicer that it had been since the day Obi-Wan and he had joined their destinies in a little ceremony.

But it was an important day and he wanted to honour Cody. Cody was more Obi-Wan’s friend than Jango’s, but he respected the hell of the vod. Cody was dangerous, smart, and stubborn as hell. He had one day given Jango a well-earned concussion and never stopped the fact that he was his clone stop him from holding Jango accountable for his choices, the chip being the first of them.

Obi-Wan and Jango wouldn’t have left Kamino, the two of them at the same time, for something other than that day. It had been almost four years since the last time Obi-Wan had even left Kamino and the last time he had been between litters, not like this time when he was one month pregnant.

The ship was full of vode armed to the teeth: if an idiot slaver or pirate thought a pregnant Force-Sensitive Omega would make a good prey, they wouldn’t arrive to Obi-Wan. Probably better for them: parents Jedi would get as vicious as a rabid rancoor to be sure they would go home to their pups, so a pregnant Jedi, defending their unborn litter….

He passed into the cockpit, where Rex was ready to take back the commands from the computer once out of hyperspace. The Captain was here for two reasons: because he was Cody’s friend, of course, but also to represent Anakin. The young Omega had birthed four healthy pups, a good litter, three weeks ago, and had stayed on Kamino, as happy as a clam at high water, with Fives and Hardcase cooing and smiling like idiots. He had send a bottle of his milk to anoint Cody’s head during the ceremony. Apparently, it was a Tatooine’s tradition

“We should be right on time,” Rex said and Jango nodded and went to the small mess. He found Obi-Wan working on his speech, dressed in his best Jedi’s uniform, his hair and beard freshly groomed. On his neck, the mating mark was redder than usual because of the hormones of the pregnancy. He was smelling so sweet and happy that Jango’s heart leaped in his chest.

“We’re arriving,” he said, just before kissing his Omega’s lips lightly, “How much would you be exasperated if I tried to mess your perfect costume? You’re so gorgeous…”

“You’re insatiable,” Obi-Wan said with a laugh that proved how happy he was about it, “You had me three times last night, quite vigorously.”

“Infinite time wouldn’t be enough with you,” purred Jango and Obi-Wan had a whimper and let his head roll on Jango’ shoulder, exposing his throat. Jango nipped on it until a mark blossomed on the fair skin, his large hand covering the belly that was full of their miracle. The pregnancy couldn’t been seen on its curve right now, of course, but he loved touching it, and the weight that the other litters had left on his lover’s body was a big turn on.

“I wonder how many pups you’ll birth this time…”

“So many,” Obi-Wan smiled and turned his head to kiss him fully on the lips. There was no time for his Alpha to bend him over a table, but nobody had said anything about making out.

When they joined Rex in the cockpit, their destination was very close. Bathed in the light of his two suns, Tatooine was waiting for them. Rex guided the ship to Mos Eisley space port. When the local population had revolted against the Hutts, encouraged by the events happening all over the galaxy at the end of the clone wars, a delegation had come to Kamino to ask for help. Cody had lead the first troops send and had never really left. From Mos Eisley, he lead a Legion dedicated to the end of the slavery in the known galaxy and like he said ‘the unknown too, just give us a minute to finish here before’.

On Tatooine, he had found love: the planet had joined the Republic and when he was helping oversee the first democratic election for their first Senator, he had meet a young Beta human woman, volunteering her help in the campaign of one of the candidate. She had a mate, an Omega human man, a little misanthrope, working as a moisture farmer and who didn’t come into town if he could help it.

Beta woman and Omega man had a ridiculously low chance of succeeding to reproduce: Beta female couldn’t impregnate the male Omega and male Omega had so low count in their sperm that even with the wonder of modern medicine, it was impossible for them to impregnate a Beta woman. Such mated pairs were usually shunned from the community for their choice but those two were stubborn and in love and had refused to bend to tradition.

The path of the trio to love had been long and difficult, had taken years, but Cody had courted the pair with dedication and respect and finally mated them. And now, Jango, Obi-Wan and a lot of vode had come, to rejoice in the wedding ceremony of Beru, Owen and Cody Lars.

“There is enough Fett in the galaxy now, and the Whitesun are a big family, but Owen is the last of his name. It’s not traditional for an Alpha to abandon his first name, but I see no problems in calling myself Cody Lars and knowing our pups will do to,” had simply said Cody.  

When they exited the ship, the suns were still low on the horizon and the party was ready to begin in the Lars farm. All the neighbourhood seemed to be there: now than an Alpha was part of the mix, it was traditional enough for them, and almost of the vode serving with Cody, and the Tatooine’s Senator, to mark the signs of the cooperation between Kamino and the Republic…

Jango knew Owen was pregnant: the mating was six months old already after all and if measures weren’t taken, an Alpha Omega mating, always occurring during a heat, was almost always fertile. He was surprised by the size of his belly: Cody hadn’t tell how many pups were forming the litter, but it seemed to be a big one. He was surprised too by how gruff the Omega was, but if Cody liked that… And by Beru, too: she wasn’t showing yet, but the scent was unmistakeable: Cody had taken a little longer but succeed in impregnating her too. It would probably be only one pup, but every one of them was precious. Soon the Lars farm would be rich of life.

Jango felt the Alpha purr in him. Those three wouldn’t live on Kamino, but they were pack, too. Those pups would be strong and plenty, and help the pack grow and stay solid, expanding around the galaxy, searching for new places to put roots.

He accepted the one-arm hug of Cody and let himself be swept by the joy of the day.


	36. Year 978 after the Russan Reformation

 

The meeting was held in the lowest level of Kamino. Kix was the first talking, exposing to the Commanders and Jango the progress of the de-chipping. Since they didn’t open the vode’s skulls but used a pulsating vibes tool, it was without trace, and only needed to be a little sneaky to be sure the Kaminoan and the Jedi wouldn’t learn about it.

Eighty per cent of the clones were now de-chipped: all medics had worked around the clocks like crazy, all Commanders had gone out of their way to distract the Jedi.

“Estimation until the end of the de-chipping?” Cody asked, his eyes on half a dozen datapads on the table, presenting the movements of the different parts of the fleet.

“Seven days,” answered Kix.

Cody turned to Fox, a question in his gaze, which Fox interpreted without troubles:

“All our intel still say the same thing. Tempest One will be on Naboo from six days from now to nine days.”

Cody turned to Bly.

“Tempest Two is still in Cato Neimoidia. Our spies should alert us if he moves.”

Cody turned to Wolffe.

“Tempest Three is on sight. We have enough hidden troops in the system to kill him if he moves.”

“Remember, only as a last resort. It would risk alerting the other. The plan is still to kill him during Vermin Fall.”

Cody turned to Keller, newly made Commander, who grimaced.

“There is a small problem with Tempest Four.”

“Don’t tell me you lost the witch again.”

“No. But she caught sight of the Arc Troopers that were following them. She attacked them instead of fleeing.”

“Are they dead?”

“No, but only because she presented as an Omega something like three seconds after. Alpha 17 and she are still having what the communication officer described as ‘ _too much hate sex for my poor eyes_ ’ all over the camp.”

“We’ll consider her neutralized. Rescind the kill order for her in Operation Vermin Fall: the Arc Troopers on site will decide themselves in reaction to her comportment.”

“They won’t kill an Omega, even if she attack them again.”

“Well, Alpha 17 better fuck her on our side, then. Reroute two units as reinforcements, but tell them: no contact until the Arc ask for it.”

Cody finally turned to Jango. Two identic pairs of eyes observed each other. Cody’s gaze was hard and Jango knew why. The Commander was asking himself if they should stick to the plan or if he should try to end Jango, right here, right now. The bounty hunter suddenly realized he had made a stupid tactical error, perhaps the biggest of his life, perhaps the latest of his life: he was alone with forty clones. He was armed, but they were too. Even with the anger the clones had against him about the chips, he had never thought they would turn against him.

 _They are their own person. I need to stop forgetting it, or I’m not better that an eugenic Kaminoan_ , he thought, not sure if it wouldn’t be his last revelation. Cody could probably take his place in the plan, with a few minor adjustments. Jango felt his muscles tense, then relax, ready for the fight. He would not go down without taking a few of them with him.

He hoped Obi-Wan took care of Boba, or perhaps Sar. The woman Jedi had been right: they were friends, and if he survived, he would buy her a drink and recognize it.

“Began Phase II,” Cody said after a while and the tension suddenly left the room.

Jango received the orders like a shock.

Yes, the clones weren’t him. They were their own person. And in this second, he suspected they were better persons than him.

“And Fett? If you mess that up…”

“I won’t. Commander.” The Alpha in Jango growled but he stomped on the reaction. That plan was the clones’ and he recognized it. Later, there would have…adjustments, in their relationships, in the pack that was forming. He certainly wouldn’t take orders from Cody all his life.

But for now, the plan was everything and Cody was the boss and Jango would recognize it and act like it. The plan needed to work because a galaxy where it failed wouldn’t be worth everything they had fought for. Perhaps, after, if they succeed, his relationship with the vode would normalize; he would have paid his debt.

He didn’t pack: he left with a legion of de-chipped brothers with only his weapons. He hadn’t even kissed his son: Kamino was supposed to be safe from spies but two precautions were better than one. The later their absence was remarked, the better.

One of the brother, named Fives, was supposed to go to Boba and take care of him during Jango’s absence, as Obi-Wan was busy kicking some sense in his Padawan thick skull. He hoped he would saw him again. He had given to Fives a pre-recorded message for Boba, in case of his death.

He didn’t left a message for Obi-Wan but as they jumped to hyperspace, he swore to himself to come back. To see the ginger Jedi again. To see how things could evolve between them.

The travel from Kamino to Coruscant could take five days. They would be careful to avoid detection so, they would need those seven days and exit hyperspace near Coruscant when all the vode in the Republic were de-chipped.

They touched down on Coruscant in the middle of the night. Half the section of slicers brothers, supposed to work on Separatist communication, had worked for the last month on a virus that gave them access to the planet.

Jango left the ship with only Cody, having abandoned their armours and masking their faces in undescriptive cloaks that could have come from twenty civilisations. His heart was beating slowly in his chest, only the habits of the hunt keeping the adrenaline in check. They were in the temple one hour after. Without surprise, the guards stopped them. Cody and he let them saw their faces.

“We need an audience.”

“You’re not supposed to be there.”

“We still need an audience. It is urgent, I would add.”

“I will ask you to leave. You can send a comm’. The Temple is under lockdown and no clone is authorized on Coruscant. Be aware that we’ll contact Judicials.”

“You don’t- ”

A small noise interrupted them, no more than a tap-tap.

A creature, small, unimpressive, green and old was leaving the Temple and descending on the steps. Jango heard Cody’ surprised intake of breaths. They hadn’t thought they would see Yoda so easily.

“Fett, you are, hmmm…”

The mannerism was the one of an old Grand father, benevolent and a little forgettful, but never in his busy life had Jango seen such piercing eyes.

“Come, come,” said Yoda and the two men followed in the Temple, in the dark hallways were only nocturnal Jedi and guards saw them pass, until they were standing where Jango thought he would never set foot: in the High Council Room.

They waited a moment, Jedi entering and taking place. All seats were taken: the Jedi had chosen new Council members to replace the ones who had went to war and become Omega. The ones they thought would be exiled from the Temple all their lives.

Cody stayed silent. That part was Jango. The only way he could redeem Order 66 and the chips and all he had signed for with the Sith and now regretted.

Jango took a breath. He was doing it for Obi-Wan. For the Jedi of Kamino. For Sar, his friend, for Mace, his sparring partner. For Cody, for Rex, for all the vode that would have been puppets. For every children of the Crèche. For Boba, who would be happy in a galaxy with Jedi. For the chances that were still only possibilities: for the pups Vos and Slick would perhaps have one day, for the litter Secura would perhaps give to Bly, for the smile Fox always had only for Gallia….

He was doing that because nothing of those possibilities would exist in a world with the Sith.

The vode had chosen to name that Order 1, in their operation. Because nothing was more important. Operation Vermin Fall couldn’t start if Jango failed.

So Jango took the step that would change the Galaxy forever.

He advanced until he was in front of Yoda and did what he would have sworn he would never, ever do.

He knelt.

He took a breath and, his gaze in Yoda’s, he said: “We brought a Super Destroyer. You need to come with us. All the Jedi on Coruscant, right now. The old, the young, the Padawans. Every one of them. We have food and clothes and everything in the Star Destroyer and the brothers on Kamino are preparing lodgings as we speak. We need to leave for Kamino in less than three days. This night would be better. You need to leave or it will be the end of the Jedi.”


	37. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

The population of Kamino was growing at an exponential rhythm: all the Jedi of age had mated happily and nobody apparently desired contraception for now. Multiple births and Jedi getting pregnant less than one year after giving birth were common occurrence and every month, Jango, the commander and the Council reviewed the numbers. The galaxy hadn’t seen so many Force sensitives in a long time, generations ago, perhaps ever.

Jango always felt like puffing his chest, something that amused infinitely Obi-Wan. Their pack, growing strong and plentiful, strongest with every birth.

Strangely, it was the only subject where he was of the same opinion as Yoda. The old Jedi had renounced his place in the Council and spent his days in the Crèche, playing with the Younglings and teaching them their first Force tricks. And there could never been too much of said Younglings, in his opinion! The latest birth had been this night, when Master Ma'kis'shaalas had given birth to four pups, perfectly healthy hybrids of Kajain'sa'Nikto and humans, when before the war, medics would have that impossible. Jango worked with his Alpha sometimes, a vod named Denal, part of the 501th under Rex’s command, and he had smiled when seeing the message. Ma'kis'shaalas and Denal had had only one litter before, triplet, and they had been trying for some time, something difficult for them when everybody else was having pups every year.

Nevertheless that meant the existing buildings would not be enough : some of the clones had chosen another fate than fighting in the peace corps the Republic had founded after the war and spend their time happily building: for the pack or for the population drawn to Kamino by the pack, growing bigger every day too.

The greenhouse that was getting prepared those days was in the pack-only part of the city and Jango made his way to it, greeting Jedi and brothers along the way. He felt particularly good today: an important legislation written by Dogma himself had passed in the Senate and Obi-Wan and he had had dinner last night with Boba and Mara. He still thought he was too young to be a grandfather, even for an adopted grandchild, but he was honest with himself and knew Mara could do everything she wanted with him with just the power of her big green eyes.

He entered the future greenhouse. There was no plants yet and the weather control was on the same temperature that the rest of the city but the Jedi had invested it, working on the mosaics of the little pathways, something they always did themselves.

“It’s as calming as moving meditation,” Obi-Wan had once explained to him. “Your hands and some part of your mind are busy with the mosaics, but it doesn’t take all your mind and the rest of it find calm.”

Jango hadn’t exactly understood it and it had shown on his face. Obi-Wan had continued:

“It’s like when you clean compulsively your blasters because something is bothering you.”

Jango had protested the adverb, Obi-Wan had laughed, and it had led them to bed, as did a lot of things.

One more proof that he was too young to be a grandfather: their sex life had never been more satisfying! Waiting for their sixth litter, they were even better together that just after their mating: they knew better what they liked, most of the time, the simplicity of Obi-Wan presenting in the most classical pose and the weight of the knot in him, or that red mouth guided by Jango’s hands down his cock. Oh, sometimes they still experimented: Obi-Wan had a curious mind and the Jedi spoke a lot between each other of their sex lives, exchanging ideas that they had found on the holonet, that they had learned about in their travels, before or after the war, or sometimes that their Alpha had brought back from their own mission. From what Jango knew, the sex toy was the most common gift when a clone came back to his mate after a long mission. Sex shops were now, in all the known galaxy, in the habits to send advertisement to every barrack where the clones spend some times. And since the Jedi and their clones mates didn’t really understand the concept of sex behind closed doors only, they also saw a lot of things that they tried after.

Further into the greenhouse, Jango sidestepped Tiplar and Tiplee working on a first mosaic. After greeting them, he congratulated them on their work. Jango didn’t really understand why the Jedi liked so much spending hours working with tiles, but he admired the results. The mosaics were always beautiful, elaborate or very simple depending of the Jedi who had done them.

He found his mate at the centre of the future section of perennial plants. Obi-Wan had brought the triplets, sleeping nearby on a big duvet, mixed with two other pups slightly older. Those were probably Adi Gallia’s, since she was next to Obi-Wan, working on the same mosaic, a starbird. They were only wearing light tunics and the curve of their belly was unmistakeable, if more pronounced in Gallia, whose pregnancy was more advanced.

Next to the sleeping pups, Mace Windu was drawing on filmsi the next mosaic he would make, nursing one of his own pup at the same time, a small frown between his eyes as he, apparently, couldn’t decide on the perfect colour. On his other side, there was a blanket with his four other little girls.

Jango stopped. Obi-Wan and Adi were silent, but smiling, working together in perfect union. It seemed wonderfully peaceful. The starbird was red, contrasting nicely with the deep blue that made the background of the mosaic. Obi-Wan was adding a line of little yellow tiles to its wing and just when he found the bottom of the yellow case in his drawer of tiles, Adi tipped his own inside, offering her tiles. He smiled, nodded, and took another yellow tile, and Adi went back to the border of the path, where it would be touching the grass, that she was making grey with bigger tiles. Mace was half smiling now, having decided for a light blue. He was sketching, with talent, some sort of plant, Jango couldn’t see exactly from where he was.

The Alpha turned back. He wanted to steal Obi-Wan for a naughty nap, because one of his meetings had been postponed, but Boba was on his day off and could certainly be convinced for a few hours of sparring. His younger age made up for the experience of Jango so much that if the elder always had the upper hand, he now needed to really work for it. And Boba gained experience every day….

Tonight, he would have Obi-Wan all to himself but for now, his mate was spending time with his friends, doing something they enjoyed, and even if Jango didn’t understand it, he would respect and protect that moment.


	38. Year 978 after the Russan Reformation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had difficulties with this chapter, so finally I cut it in two and this is the first part about the last part of the war

Operation Vermin Fall started the second the last Jedi, Master Nu, stepped on the Star Destroyer that would take them to Kamino. With the war, most of the Jedi present in the Temple had been Younglings, Initiates, Padawans and elderly, but the Knights, most of them guards, asked to follow the clones into war.

“You’ll probably present as Omega in the next hours,” Cody pleaded, “Every Jedit that lived that transition needed a few hours at the minimum. It’s quite a shock, even with all the suppressants we brought you from Kamino, to be sure there would be no heat.”

With a grimace, they relented to his arguments.  

They only kept the minimal crew to man the ship. With the Jedi aboard, the Star Destroyer could function with minimum vode, just enough to man the posts that those Jedi didn’t know enough. All the other clones entered smaller ships in the hangar and one hour after leaving Coruscant, the Star Destroyer jumped to Kamino, using jumps decided to lose an eventual pursuit, just after the depart of the smaller ships. They meet in an empty place of space with another part of the fleet. Jango and most of the Commanders met in another Star Destroyer, officially in route for Felucia. The other teams already in place made their reports. Bly was on Cato Nemoida, his men and he ready to kill Dooku or die trying. Wolffe and his Pack were targeting Grievious. Asajj Ventress was supposed to be killed by a team of Arc Troopers but, if the reports were exact, the team leader and the witch were still busy kriffin in every position possible.

“She…well, she kriffed every brother, like to make a choice. Alpha-17 and her will strain something if they don’t stop.”

“Is there no problem between the brothers she discarded after trying them?” Cody asked, his eyebrows so high they touched his hair.”

“No, Commander,” affirmed the communication officer. They could see, even with the bad quality of the communication, an enormous love bite to the side of his throat, and he touched it as he continued:

“Better him than us. She kriff as if she want to kill you from exhaustion and she kisses as if she wants to tear your tongue out.”

“Stay close. If she tries to leave, she must be terminated. And…and Alpha-17 too. Until we’re sure he remembers in which side he is. If they just kriff and sleep, leave them be for now.”

The communication stopped.

“I kriffin hope Dooku will not present too the moment he catch sight of his first brother. That would be awkward. I refuse to have one of the Sith who ordered us to be slaves to be my brother-in-law,” Cody grumbled and Jango grunted in answer, because that would be a nightmare, then corrected himself:

“I have met with him many times and he never seemed to suddenly develop a secondary gender. If you really have this effect because you’re my clones…”

After that, Ponds reported: his team was in place to kidnap Nute Gunray, as Commander Stone and his men were ready for the kidnapping of Shu Mai, and Commander Neyo and his men ready to offer Senator Tikkes their very friendly hospitality.

Other teams were ready, all over the galaxy, for the rest of the Separatist Council, for tactical strongholds. And the other legions, too, the ones that were still fighting all over the front line with Jedi, send signals that they were ready for the chaos that would probably follow. On Kamino, Appo and other brothers were ready to take control of the facility and throw the Kaminoan into jail until a decision could be made about them, helped by the fact that the intensive culling of their own specie to only keep perfect specimen had made the Kaminoan a specie with few members.

When the last report was done, there was a second of silence.

“I have something to say,” Jango said, surprising even himself.

Eyes identical to his own turned to him, in the war room or in the projections.

“I don’t do speech. But you’re ten times the warriors I thought you would be. Ten times the men and I’m…I’m proud of you. And ready to prove that I’m more that the man who sold you to be chipped, and used.”

Silence. There was something heavy in their gazes.

“We don’t need your approbation,” one of them finally answered, “You’re our template, not our father.”

Another few seconds of silence, then the same clone spoke again: “But if we survive this war, you could be our vod.” And it was as sweet as the scent of Obi-Wan or the laugh of Boba.

Cody, Jango, and a few clones entered another shuttle. They would meet with the biggest team, armed to the teeth. Tempest One was the name of their target. In five hours, the ship of Chancellor Palpatine would jumped out of hypserspace next to Coruscant, the Chancellor coming back from the Festival of Light on Naboo. In five hours, the man would find Coruscant empty of Jedi and the clones would attack the ship into orbit and kill Darth Sidious.

Just before they jumped to hyperspace, the proximity alarm sounded. Another ship, marked as a Republic one, had jumped, unannounced, next to them.

Had they been betrayed? Nobody but the clones and Jango had known anything. The Jedi who had just left for Kamino didn’t even known the most important part: the identity of Sidious and the cogs of Operation Vermin Fall.

“They’re contacting us,” announced one of the clones manning the communication. The image formed and Jango felt his heart jumping into his throat when he recognized who was inside this mystery ship.

A few clones, expression sheepish.

And Obi-Wan. Windu. Fisto. Gallia. Sar and her sister. Vos and his former Padawan. And so many others. A lot of those Jedi who had come to war with them, those Jedi they loved and wanted to protect, those sweet-smelling, wonderful Omega supposed to be safe on Kamino, soon joined by the rest of the Order, or with their own legions, far away from Sidious.

“Did you think you could open the ball without us?” asked Obi-Wan, with too much teeth in his smile.

“That’s it,” Cody murmured to Jango, sotto voce, “the first thing I do if I come back alive to Kamino is push Fives of a pier.”

The Jedi came aboard and Jango and Cody meet them in the hangar. Jango didn’t have time for questions: Obi-Wan marched to him and kissed him, in public for the first time. His mind derailed and he opened for his lover’s tongue. In general, Obi-Wan wasn’t an aggressive kisser but this time, it was an assault.

When he had put Jango’s head totally upside down, he took his face between his hands and told him, very matter of fact:

“Tell me. Fives told us a good chunk of it, but I want to hear it from you.”

“We’re gonna kill the Sith Lord and we put your brethren out of arm way, in case that son of a bitch escape us.”

Obi-Wan kissed him again.

“Silly Mandalorian. Sith Lords are our speciality. ”

Someone cleared his throat and Jango turned his head to escape the gravity well that were Obi-Wan’s eyes.

Cody and Mace Windu had twin expression of exasperation.

“War first,” said Cody, “then you can celebrate all you want.”

 

Half a galaxy away, Anakin tipped his head to the sky night. He didn’t see stars because of Kamino’s clouds but he knew they were there. He had been stupid. He shouldn’t have listened to Obi-Wan. He should have go with them. He would steal a ship and -

“Skywalker!”

It was that clone. Fives. The one that had hauled him out of Separatist jails. Last night, Obi-Wan had go back from Fett’s quarter with the clone by the scruff of his neck and secluded himself with him and all the other Jedi Masters present on Kamino. Anakin wasn’t stupid. He understood the war was at a tipping point and he should –

“Oh no,” Fives said, his tone low, an Alpha rumble, and despite himself, Anakin felt a long shiver and some slick forming. He hated it.

“Whatever stupid thing you’re thinking, don’t.”

“Excuse me, clone, but I – “

“My name is Fives, not clone, and I’m a kriffin Arc Trooper, not some helpless civilian your lightsaber impress. Last time you took a stupid decision, my brothers died.”

Anakin felt like a pang inside his chest; but he had been betrayed by his biology. This time, he knew better.

Fives growled, low.

“Stupid pup!”

“I’m an adult!”

“You don’t act like it. The rest of the Order will be there soon. Do you know where the Sith will try to strike first if he escape my brothers and the Jedi? The kids, Skywalker, and not only the cadets, I’m speaking of your kids!”

“The Younglings aren’t – ”

“Aren’t you a Jedi ? Do you take only the parts that interest you?”

For half a second, Anakin wanted to Force-push him into the sea, but Fives was continuing: “Commander Appo is ready to storm the Kaminoan part of the city, the first part of keeping everyone safe. And I asked him two places on his team, for you and I. You’ll be busy and useful and I won’t have to tell your Master I lost you. Perhaps he will protect me from Fett, since I spilled the beans”

Anakin, startled, looked at Fives, but the other man was truthful.

“Weren’t you supposed to take care of Fett’s child?”

“He’s safe in the Halls of Healing with the wounded JEdi, where we’ll put your Younglings and elderly the minute they arrive.”

Anakin hesitated for half a second, then he followed. Perhaps he had been too hard about that clone. Fives had saved him and pleaded for him to be part of the mission.

Perhaps Alpha weren’t good only to put Omega under their foot , as he had seen as a child.


	39. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

 

Obi-Wan let out a whine when the knot withdraw from his ass. Even after years of being sexually active with Jango, how good being knotted could be almost came as quite a shock every time. He stayed there, panting, his legs open, slick and semen running on his tights from his gaping hole.

Jango pressed a dazed, exhausted kiss to the mating mark.

“Such a good Omega. You take my cock so beautifully,” he praised, and Obi-Wan’ spent cock gave a twitch at the words.

Jango helped him roll over onto his back and they shared a long, deep kiss, Jango’s hand coming to cover his belly and its curve, becoming more prominent every week. They had waited to ask the healers how many pups composed their new litter. For a time, they even had thought to let it a secret until the birth, but that morning, they had finally asked Bant.

Six pups. They were waiting for six pups, their biggest litter. The instant they were out of the Healers Hall, they had fallen on each other, their blood burning from those news, Jango kriffin Obi-Wan against the wall in the first empty room they had found, before putting their pants in place and running quickly to their rooms, abandoning clothes on their way to the bed, where Obi-Wan had presented and begged so nicely that Jango had complied again, mounting him. Pounding into him hard, he had kissed the freckled shoulders, bitten that neck, praised the sweet submission of his lover, Obi-Wan babbling under him about their pups, about how he was Jango’s, Jango’s only.

Jango went to fetch them to glasses of water and groaned, coming back, when he saw Obi-Wan, limp and satisfied, his rim swollen, and the two loads he had fucked in him slowly dripping.

“You’re gloriously indecent,” he complimented and Obi-Wan had a laugh and sat down to accept the water, before falling back onto the pillows. He could feel almost physically Jango’s gaze.

“Spread yourself for me,” asked the bounty hunter and Obi-Wan obeyed, taking his legs into his hands, opening himself to his lover’s gaze.

He touched the swollen opening and Obi-Wan made a pleased noise. Jango eased a finger inside, kissed his hips.

“More,” pleaded Obi-Wan.

“You’re not sore? I was pretty rough.”

“Yes, you filled me good…More, Jango.”

The Alpha chuckled, rubbed one of his other finger on the small rim and Obi-Wan mewled softly, still limp and offered.

“Just a minute,” Jango said, “I want to be sure you’re comfortable till the end.” He eased his finger out, grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and tucked it under his lover’s hips. He patted his flank, smoothed his hand over the belly that protected their litter, and took the lube from the nightstand. Obi-Wan’s own slick was always good, but for something like that, he liked to double the protection, to be sure he wouldn’t hurt him.

Obi-Wan spread himself wider and there was such trust in his eyes, such love.

“Fill me up, Alpha,” he purred and he was so sweet-smelling, so perfect, that Jango gave him two fingers immediately as a reward. Obi-Wan whined and fucked himself on them, eyes wide, pupils dilated. Two fingers weren’t really a stretch for an Omega who had been fucked two times just before, but he seemed ready to let Jango do as he wanted, on the rhythm he wanted, playing with Obi-Wan’s body.

And played he did, fingering this sweet-smelling mate the Force had given him, marvelling at how wet and warm Obi-Wan was inside, how his body opened to him so easily, how it yielded to his fingers, wet from his own slick, from the lube and Jango’s come.

“Six pups,” marvelled the Alpha and the words made Obi-Wan whimper.

“My Omega, perfect, round, belly full of pups. Beautiful thing…” he continued, stretching and thrusting, his come dripping and staining the sheet.

“Your pups, your Omega,” Obi-Wan groaned and Jango smiled, curling his fingers to caress his prostate, making him breathe mindless noises of pleasure. He loved to fuck him senseless, with his cock, his fingers, with toys. He loved how Obi-Wan opened naturally, beautifully, how he was never full enough of Jango, how he could kriff him again and again and Obi-Wan would open his legs and present for more.

He took back his fingers and pushed three, covered in lube again, worrying at the same time a mark on Obi-Wan’s fair skin, one amongst other he had already given him. The Omega was panting but never pushed for more, letting Jango call the shoots.

“Good, you’re doing so well. When I am done with you, you’ll be so open, dripping,” and Obi-Wan’s breath hitched.

The fourth finger was easy too and Jango had a flashback to their honeymoon when he had given his fist to his mate for the first time, opening him every day a little more with his cock and fingers, with a plug when they slept, until Obi-Wan begged for his fist.

They were hard once again and Obi-Wan was leaking so much he was adding to the mess. 

“Ready, love?”

“Alpha…” Obi-Wan wailed and arched back against Jango, a gurgling, lost sound of pleasure escaping his chest, when the Alpha eased his thumb into him. The stretched hole closed around his wrist and the Omega yelled again, a broken sound without meaning. His eyes were wet and his scent sweeter than the priciest plums of long lost world. From his other hand, Jango palmed lazily his lover’s dick, making him sob and arch, then slowly closed his fist. Obi-Wan saw stars, bucking back, but his lover’s other arm was strong against his hips and kept him in place. Jango put lube on his forearm, then thrust slowly, rubbing with his fist again his mate’s prostate. Obi-Wan cried out and came messily without Jango touching his dick.

Jango had to pinch the base of his dick to be sure he wouldn’t follow. When Obi-Wan’s breathing rhythm was a little calmer, he purred:

“Such good Omega. So open, so trusting. My whole fist, love,” and he thrusted up again. Obi-Wan whimpered.

“You’re doing so well. Full of my pups, and giving me such pleasure. So open, dripping. I’m putting a big plug in you tomorrow, you’ll be too open for one of the small one.”

Obi-Wan was nonverbal from pleasure but he smiled at his Alpha, a little dreamy, and Jango felt once again like the luckiest bastard in the galaxy.

“I’m sure you have another in you,” Jango said, and it was an Alpha order. His mate whimpered and presented his throat, too tired for more, helpless little sounds of pleasure escaping him as Jango gave shallow thrusts with his fist, carefully reading his reactions. He really knew how to play his Omega’s body: it took a while but Obi-Wan suddenly yelled breathlessly and came again, dry this time. Jango was almost trembling with how hard he was, but he was extra cautious when he eased his hand out. The view of that hole, swollen, red, leaking, was like a punch. He took himself in hand almost violently, stroking himself a few times, and came all over his Jedi, the long orgasm of an Alpha painting Obi-Wan’s belly and thighs, reaching even his heavy breasts. If it wasn’t his third orgasm in a short time, the view of Obi-Wan painted like that would have punched another orgasm right of Jango.

Here, he just leaned down, shared a panting kiss with his lover.

“Give me a few minutes and I will draw us a bath,”

“Hmmmn,” Obi-Wan only answered.

Jango chuckled, still panting, and rubbed over his lover’s belly, the curve of the pregnancy and the mess of their come. He had done that.

His lover, his mate, his Omega, his pups…

He presented to Obi-Wan two fingers covered in semen and that red tongue lapped at them and Jango felt like the luckiest, most powerful, happiest Alpha ever.


	40. Year 978 after the Russan Reformation

It started by a catastrophe. A plan destined to kidnap or kill some of the best protected sentients in the galaxy couldn’t go without problems, not even one conceived by the best soldiers ever existing. There were too many variables and sometimes a victory or a defeat aren’t separated by so many points.

The clone commander Stone and all his men were killed in trying to capture Shu Mai of the Separatist Council, who escaped. Luckily, the strikes were coordinated and the signals she sent to warn her conspirators were in vain: they had already been attacked. Later, Ponds and some other vode went to retrieve the bodies, which were immersed on Kamino, like all the dead vode retrieved, apart for one or two that had asked for other burials.

It wasn’t the only trouble: Wolffe’ ship took an hit when the Pack took down Grievious and the poor Commander lost an eye, but it was the only casualty on this team, and Wolffe would always say later that it was a small price, that he was happy to pay.

All over the galaxy, clones fought and died in this last battle, a battle for the galaxy and for the Jedi they had come to respect and love. They killed Dooku, they captured Gunray, they stormed tactical strongholds and barricaded themselves within…. Alpha-17 continued to kriff Asajj Ventress on every surface, or perhaps it was the other way, it was difficult to say. On Kamino, Fives locked the door on the last Kaminoan jailed and he shared a high fives with Anakin, who had saved his life ten minutes before.

And, orbiting Coruscant, the Jedi and the principal strike force of brothers saw the ship bearing Darth Sidious jumped out of hyperspace.

Obi-Wan took a careful, controlled breath, let his hand touch for a fraction of second the hand of Jango as around the Chancellor’ ship, hell exploded, as the clones attacked its shields and its turrets to facilitate boarding.

Across the expand of space separating the ambush from his ship, Sidious raged. He could feel across the galaxy his plans unravelling. He felt the darkness of Dooku suddenly disappearing and the one that was Durge dissolving…And, in one of those ships that had attacked his own, there were Jedi, their Light shining across space.

He let a vile curse out, something so old that the paint peeled on the walls and floor around him and ran to the escape pod. It was unnecessary to hail the ships: the attacks, concerted, the Dark he could feel losing hold around everywhere, it was the proof he had been unmasked. He abandoned Mas Amedda without even a second of question. He needed to live, to regroup. He would make them pay, those leechs of the Light, make them pay for the end of his plans. He was the true Lord of the Sith and at the end, he would prevail!

“Are you sure that ship will survive? It’s a lot of firepower,” asked Windu, watching the Chancellor’ ship trying, unsuccessfully, to break from the fire trap the clones had built in placing their own ship. Underneath, Coruscant’s control was going nuts and other ships were taking off the planet to rescue the Chancellor.

“It would be so much easier if we could simply explode the whole thing,” Jango grumbled.

“Yes, and we wouldn’t be best that the Sith”, Obi-Wan remarked, “They are so many lives on that ship, most of them innocents.”

“There is an escape pod! I repeat, there is an escape pod!” One of the vode on the control yelled and it was a scramble to the hangar, to follow that pod. The first fighters had already taken off when the Jedi, Jango and Cody jumped into ships.

At the end, let it be noted that Mas Amedda survived, when the Chancellor didn’t. He faced eighty years of jail but he would always found a vindictive pleasure in knowing that Sidious had been reduced to ashes just after letting him to die on that ship.

It all ended on the steps of the Jedi Temple, the steps that in another universe the future Darth Vader had climbed with a legion of slaves at his back, good men striped of their own minds.

But this time, the Force was nicer. The Sith Master was cornered here, instead of coming later, cackling madly at the bodies Vader had left behind him. Nobody would ever know what exactly he had wanted. To use the power of the Sith high-altar under the Temple, that Sith presence that the Jedi, in their incapacity to destroy it, had covered from their light all those years? To avenge his plans in targeting the non-combatant Jedi?

Nobody would ever know, and to be honest, nobody cared. The Jedi perhaps would have asked, if the circumstances had been different, to better understand Darksiders and how to fight them, but they would be too busy being happy, for once.

On the steps of the Temple, Sidious couldn’t run anymore and a lot of clones and a few Jedi died to make certain of that, that he wouldn’t escape to come back another day.

The fight was epic. The Temple would survive, and the newly elected Chancellor would have it converted in the biggest orphanage in the galaxy, a place where lost children could be safe and educated, but entire buildings in the area were brought down. Night turned into day, or perhaps the other, because the light shows from grenades, blasters, force lightning and lightsabers were such that it didn’t make sense anymore. Jango would have sworn he saw things on the corner of his eyes, shadows where the light wouldn’t have cast them, silhouettes of light, impossible things, as Light and Darkness fought each other for the galaxy’s fate.

Cody was struck down on of the first and for hours he stayed where he had fallen, because nobody could come close enough to evacuate him, blood seeping down for the side of his head. He would keep a big scar from that day, on the side of the head.

Jango fought like a possessed man, every single of them, clones or Jedi did. And they lost people. Too much people, too much brilliant souls. A Jedi Master named Plo Koon, and a brother named Echo, and another Master named Ry-Gaul, and Lieutenant Galle of the 327th Star Corps, and Garen Muln, who was Obi-Wan’s friend, and CT-80/88-3009 who had just chosen the name A’den for himself…

Too many. So many. So many lost because of one Sith. Truly, if not the True Lord of the Sith, Sidious had been the most dangerous who had ever lived.

For a moment, Jango thought they would lose and doom the galaxy and finally, their number prevailed.

Sidious was brought down and it made a noise like a starship crashing down. On a planet that wasn’t supposed to exist, the Son wept and the Daughter burst into songs.

The vode didn’t take chance and put so much blasters charges in his body it was…well, it wasn’t nice to see. Really, really not. There was something like energy crackling in the air, some malevolence and all the surviving Jedi put a knee on the ground in perfect union and for a second, the universe hesitated. The closest Jedi to Jango was Mace Windu and the bounty hunter could see him grimace, like he was doing some terrible effort even if he wasn’t moving physically. The fight was _Other_. Some blood dipped from the Korrun’s nose when the only wound he had received had been the loose of two fingers when he had engaged the Sith with lightsaber.

Then something cleared and Jango had just the time to catch the man before he crashed down on the ground.

On Kamino at the same second, Anakin yelled suddenly and crashed too, and Fives rushed to him.

All over the battlefield that was the Temple’s vicinity, Jedi crashed down and clones caught them, or picked them up when they hadn’t been quick enough to catch them.

Jango searched for the nearest Commander.

“Thire! We collect everyone, alive and wounded and dead, and we run before Coruscant put itself together enough to try to arrest us. We’ll send the data packet of proof just before jumping to Kamino. And the body of the Sith comes too. Every part. We’ll toss him in the first sun we encounter between jumps.”

He checked Windu’s pulse. It was weak but growing stronger almost every second.

When he had put Windu on a stretcher, he wanted to search for Obi-Wan in the mass of people, but all hands were needed and he administered first aids to troopers and Jedi alike, praying to the Force he didn’t really believe that his lover was alive.

If Obi-Wan survived that day, perhaps he would start to believe in the Force. He was saving the life of a Jedi Knight he didn’t know with a tourniquet when he felt the hyperspace jump.

And the troopers took the Jedi away, stole them away from Coruscant that had taken them for granted, to Kamino and its safety, not really understanding yet that it would be forever.

 


	41. Year 985 after the Ruusan Reformation

Jango liked the Organa. Sure, their non-violence habits were baffling and exactly the sort of philosophical way of life that would come back to bite them in the ass, in his opinion. But that day, the day where that philosophy would found its limits, the vode, or their children, or the children of their children, would be there to defend Alderaan, because the Organa and their people were good allies.

Bail himself, the Chancellor, had been the first politicians speaking for the Jedi and their freedom in the Senate, when all others Senators were trying to guilt the Order in coming back to Coruscant, chaining them into service again.

That would never had worked; the clones had Opinions about people using their Jedi to do their work, never thanking them, treating them like glorified Senate hounds, and their friendship verging on more with the Jedi were already strong enough that the Jedi would have hesitated coming back to Coruscant if the clones had refused to go with them.

Still, Jango appreciated it.

As a former slave, he also appreciated that Chancellor Organa had made one of his mandate tasks to eradicate slavery in the known galaxy, not only in Republic space but also in the Hutts controlled territories. On some subjects, they disagreed, sometimes vehemently, but they still had a good working relationship and some respect thrown in the mix.

And, more important than anything, Bail and Breha Organa were Obi-Wan’s friends, something that the Alpha in him had grumbled about in the beginning, because traditionally, a mated Alpha pair was supposed to look for an Omega to complete the set. After a time, he had succeed in stomping on that part of his instincts

So, in that clear morning with only slight rain, he went to the Coruscant delegation arriving on Kamino with …well, not a smile, but with his most open expression he could find for people who weren’t his pack. He congratulated Bail Organa about the adoption of their third child, a little orphan boy from Coruscant this time, after two girls, even if he couldn’t remember the name, something like Fan or Gan, and played nice during all the negotiations.

Even if the newly appointed Vice Chair of Chancellor Organa was there too. Even if the beta woman had chosen that day a dress that was made to drawn attention to her neck and to the fresh mating mark.

Jango played nice, because he liked Organa, because they needed to have a good relationship with the Republic, because he was an Alpha and good Alpha played politics when they needed to, for the good of the pack. Also because Obi-Wan would have been disappointed if he had been discourteous with the Vice Chair, or with the army of too-painted and difficult to distinguish women of her suit, and he was in the habits to do anything to avoid that.

That didn’t mean he liked it.

Dogma had really terrible taste in mates, the Kaminoan had probably put something strange in his decanting tube. He could understand the attraction of a dangerous mate, Obi-Wan was a bloody dangerous being when he bothered too, but really? Amidala? A Naboo politician? The woman who had almost succeed in stealing Skywalker of the pack years ago? And Jango didn’t care if Skywalker had been okay with it at the time, in a fit of panic about his growing attraction to Fives. He didn’t care: Obi-Wan would probably had followed his Padawan and their life, happy, strong, fertile, wouldn’t have existed.

He didn’t care if she had thought Anakin drugged at the time: he disliked her and he stuck to that, and when Obi-Wan dared pretend it was because Amidala and him had some things in common, he didn’t answer and did something that was definitely not pouting.

On each side of Chancellor Organa, Padme Amidala and Jango Fett smiled at each other with too much teeth and played the politic game and their mates pretended they didn’t see it, and sometimes hid their smiles behind their datapads during another show of posturing.


	42. Year 978 after the Russan Reformation

A few months after the Battle of Coruscant and the death of Sidious, Obi-Wan started to smell awfully sweet. Every morning, Jango’s erection was harder when they woke up, his nose picking pheromones and driving his body, preparing him to the same event Obi-Wan’s own was. On the evening, they fell on each other with desire that confined on frenetic, Jango mounting the Omega four times a night without even getting satiated.

For a few days, they pretended nothing was happening.

They worked harder with the rest of the Jedi and with the vode for the negotiations with Coruscant, for the peace with the Separatists, they coordinated the relief effort that the GAR was engaged into, they pretended they didn’t see the gazes, full of questions, from Anakin and Boba and the others…

And every night, they found each other again, frantic kisses and long caresses, the weight of Jango on Obi-Wan, the sweet sounds of a satisfied Omega, pleasure shared and given, received and savoured…

“Do you want Boba and me to let you the apartment? We could crash somewhere else for a few days.” Jango finally asked one morning. The vode had prepared special quarters for the Jedi that weren’t ready for a shared heat, with toys and a separated ventilation system, but perhaps if Obi-Wan had said nothing, it’s because he didn’t want to spend his heat there? He had never sought his own quarters, had been living with Jango and Boba since coming back from Coruscant, perhaps he would feel more comfortable here?

Obi-Wan turned on the bed, switched the light on in a frivolous use of the Force. His blue gaze was very Jedi-esque, as he gazed upon Jango, like he was searching for something in his soul.

“Usually, I think an Alpha sharing the bed of an Omega for months would ask, upon a heat, if he could share it with said Omega.”

Jango regretted the light. Shadows would have been much more comfortable in that second. He opened his mouth but words didn’t come.

Obi-Wan continued:

“Or are you uncomfortable at the idea of sharing that with me because the guilt of the chips and of Order 66 is still weighting down your souls?”

“You knew!!!” Jango exclaimed, sitting down on the bed. He was feeling betrayed by this new development. Obi-Wan knew, and had said nothing, had shared Jango’s bed!

Still, the Omega looked at him with that strange, powerful gaze, which Jango hated with fiery passion.

“We have known for months. The commanders told us everything the day after the Sith’s death.”

“All of you?!” And he felt like grimacing. Sar and Windu and Fisto and Adi Gallia and all those Jedi he had learned and liked, they knew he had prepared for their deaths, had known for months?

“We wanted to see if you would tell us yourself.”

Something defrosted in Obi-Wan’s face and his hand against Jango’s cheek was gentle.

“Perhaps it was cruel of us.”

Jango snorted.

“I tried to kill all of you!”

“And you didn’t. You saved us, you stole us, protected us.”

“For the last time, I didn’t stole you. It was a tactical move to remove you from Coruscant after the battle.”

“And if we decided to go back, you would be happy with it?”

Jango gritted his teeth. He wanted to hide his face under his helmet so hard in that second. Why did Obi-Wan always sprung this sort of conversation when Jango was naked?

Obi-Wan smiled, a small smile but a smile nevertheless and placed a small kiss on Jango’s lips.

“I haven’t made preparation for my heat in the heat room, because I was waiting for you to ask to spend it with me.”

Jango’s breath hitched.

“I will find the necessary shoots for me.” He answered immediately.

“You could. Or you could not.”

Obi-Wan was blushing.

“I know my soul. I shall desire no other Alpha. If you wanted to bite me… I would be happy to be your mate, if you could see yourself keeping me.”

Jango’s brain went offline for a few seconds. When it came back; Obi-Wan was under Jango, his lips red from kisses, keening his pleasure as Jango’s hips frotted against him, their cocks hard and already leaking. They needed to speak about it like adults, a small part of said brain protested, but Jango didn’t stop. They needed to speak about it, but first….

He took his lover face to face, avid to see the pleasure on his features, kissing the sounds right from his panting mouth, his own breath harsh and uneven. Jango felt drunk, everything else unimportant, the only real thing in the world was the Omega under him, his fingers clenching in Jango’ shoulders, the wail he had when Jango pushed into him in one single thrust.

He took him hard, chasing his pleasure in the submitting body, growling non sense words, part tender, part possessive, mouthing his neck, his shoulders, biting his lips, and Obi-Wan gave everything in return, urging him, asking for more, his nails hard on Jango’s back, begging for his lover’s knot.

When they were still tied, when sweat started to cool down a little, Jango kissed him again and asked:

“You know I will be fertile without shoots. If you don’t take precautions…”

Obi-Wan bit his own lips, something shy suddenly present. Jango caressed his belly, the flat muscles that would go round if he impregnated him…

“Would you?” He asked breathlessly. His knot hadn’t even deflated and desire was already burning in his blood at this idea.

“You don’t have to,” said Obi-Wan. “It’s a decision for the two of us. But yes… I would like too.”

“Pups.” Jango said, laughter in his soul and joy in his voice.

“Pups.” Obi-Wan said, desire sparkling in his eyes, “a whole litter of them, with your eyes and Boba’s stubbornness and _….pups_.”

Jango nipped at the gland that would soon be red and raised with the heat.

“I’m a traditional old thing,” he said and Obi-Wan snorted.

“You don’t feel so old in the nights. Neither in fights.”

“Shh, let me finish.” He kissed that red, irresistible mouth, and started moving again. His knot was deflated but he was rock hard and Obi-Wan sighted, a sound so satisfied that Jango felt proud for earning it. He took him slowly, decided to make it last. The wet sounds of the load he already had put in him only motivated him. He wanted to see seed drip of his lover.

“I want to marry you. To raise warriors with you. To say the Mandalorian vows, with Boba and Skywalker for witnesses and to mate you and to breed you. I want to keep you for all our lives and kill your enemies for you.”

“You did,” Obi-Wan said, “you did kill my enemies and gave a home to my brethren, and I’ll be yours.”

“I don’t share,” swore Jango, after a particularly hard thrust, “I don’t share, be sure, I won’t let you go.”

“I know, I know,” Obi-Wan babbled, presenting his throat, I know and I’m yours. Keep me, breed me, my mate, my Alpha…”

“I will,” Jango growled, “ Be sure, beloved. I will keep you and mate you and mount you until you’re breeded so well, and when our pups will be old enough, I will do it again, until you’re too big to move!” And Obi-Wan sobbed and begged, begged until the knot tied him again, until he felt his lover’s cock fill him good and orgasm took him too, spurn as much by the pleasure that by the words, by the idea of life in his belly.

“Yours.” He swore and hope was burning in his heart when he saw Jango’s ferocious smile.


	43. 985-986 after the Ruusan Reformation

A new year had come and everywhere in the Republic, and in the parts of the galaxy that used the Republic calendar, people celebrated. It had been centuries since hope had been so strong, so powerful. Since the war, the galaxy was, slowly but certainly, becoming a better place. Sometimes with a little help from the clones but slavers weren’t the type to be convinced by Organa to renounce their way without a few growling Commanders enforcing it! A new generations of Senators had risen and were busy cleaning the Senate acts and forcing the galaxy to follow, from stricter corporate social responsibility laws to a long list of financial laws, simplified voting procedures and Organa didn’t seem ready to stop there.

Yes, hope was high and nowhere higher than on Kamino.

The Jedi and their mate had organized a big game that day for the children, little clues and prizes everywhere on the compound and there had been so much laughter and joy that even Jango, as non Force Sensitive as human could get, felt drunk on it.

Now the children were in bed, safe in the nurseries of the different quarters, or in the crèche for the older and most of the adults were celebrating. Hand in hand, Jango and Obi-Wan were slowly making their way across the city after a dinner with Boba and Mara, comfortably silent together.

“A new year,” Obi-Wan finally said, when they entered the biggest greenhouse and there was something so profoundly happy in those few words. Like he was sure that year would be good, that all the years to come would be good and Jango’s heart expanded his pride, because his mate was sure of their future happiness, of their safety, their pack was safe and he had made it happen…

Ok, the clones had helped, but the most primal part of him didn’t care about that.

They passed some small pools, savouring the laughter and water noises. Obi-Wan’s cheeks were deliciously red.

“Is our pack nicely occupied?” Jango asked, amused and half aroused by what they were hearing.

“So much lust and pleasure in the Force. I’m not even sure there is an adult being chaste tonight in this part of the city!”

They passed a bench where Depa and her mates were sitting and they were already pretty far away in celebration. Jango felt himself harden a little more at the sweet smell of a satisfied Omega and at the sound, the high whine that she made when one of them parted her tunic enough to put his mouth on her nipple.

“A good celebration to you!” Cheered Obi-Wan naturally and he took Jango to another path, next to one of the biggest pools of the greenhouse. 

A lot of their friends were there, most of them still dressed, except Anakin, because of course it was always Anakin. Where did the young man and his mates found all that energy?

Jango accepted a fruit juice from Ponds and let Adi explain to him the latest stupid of some Senators, laughing in the appropriate place. She was an excellent story teller and the noises of pleasure of Anakin were the perfect music to finish the year. In the pool, Rex had joined his mate and was having him, quite vigorously, against the mosaic side.

Anakin looked like a young god, golden, wet, his mouth open around panting whines and all the Omega around their pool were smelling sweeter from minutes to minutes. Once, Jango had had a theory that Anakin influenced the other Jedi in their moods because he was the most powerful of the bunch, but the theory didn’t last in face of the facts that seeing the three vode bend over the young man was simply too beautiful to not give ideas.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Fives seating himself on the side of the people and opening his pants. Anakin didn’t tease, just took the hard cock between his lips with a noise of gratitude.

On the other side of the water, Ponds had a hand high on Mace’s leg and it was climbing higher minute to minute, even if they still pretended to be interested in their conversation, Mace with Obi-Wan and Ponds with Fox.

Jango excused himself from the conversation and went to his lover. With a smile, Obi-Wan pointed to the scene in the pool.

“I think soon we will have to play babysitter for a week. Sometimes I ask myself if all this doesn’t speed up the time between the birth and the next heat.”

Jango put a possessive hand on the curve of his mate’s belly.

“I understand Rex, Fives and Hardcase. I would have you always pregnant if I could.” And Obi-Wan had a happy smile to the words and kissed him. Jango took control of the kiss, mimicking with his mouth the way he was always ready to conquer that sweet body.

“Love,” he whispered.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said in return, his voice a caress itself.

Everywhere in the compound, Omega Jedi opened their arms, high on the love and hope, burning with lust for their mates. Jango found a free couch behind some palm tree, pushed a few pillows away and attacked the light clothes that Obi-Wan was wearing. Everywhere in the greenhouse soft cries of pleasure were resonating. Somewhere behind them, Mace and Ponds were celebrating too and the noises of Anakin, muffled by Fives, had been replaced by Adi’s, but the other members of the pack weren’t important to Jango in this moment, even if their joy reinforced theirs.

Only Obi-Wan, sweet, delicious Obi-Wan, with his welcoming body, full of their pups, with his legs that opened for Jango, and his hands on his shoulders, with his breast that were full of milk for their litters.

“Mine”, growled Jango low, biting lightly the mating mark.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan repeated.

Jango rolled them over, putting Obi-Wan on his hands and knees, turned in direction of the pool. He wanted Obi-Wan to see. He knew the satisfaction the other man took in the pleasure and safety of his fellow Jedi, he knew how high he became when he opened to them in the Force.

Anakin’s mouth was round around Fives’ knot, Rex still deep in him, and just at that moment, Harcase came and painted his face in white. Obi-Wan whined. Jango pushed directly three fingers into his slick heat. Next to the pool; Ponds had cuddled Mace from behind and had now four fingers in him. Obi-Wan begged, some words without sense and Jango gave him another finger, not that his mate needed it, slick as he was already. On the other side, Adi was in the same position as Obi-Wan, her face slack in pleasure, Fox mounting her. Obi-Wan pushed back harder and Jango finally took his fingers out, slapped his rear.

“You’ll take my cock when I say it!”

“Alpha…” and the whine was too much, because there was nothing he wanted more, that to mount that perfect creature.

Two silhouettes were seen between the plants and Jango, even now still vigilant, recognized Quinlan kneeling for his mate, then he forgot about the Kiffar, because Obi-Wan was tight and hot and slick and made the most delicious noises;

“Perhaps you are right, you know” he panted against his back. He worried from his teeth the mating mark and Obi-Wan mewled, asking for more. Slowly, Jango started to move.

“We stole you, in a way. And we are never, never giving you back.”

“Yes, yes,” babbled Obi-Wan.”

“You’re ours. Every Jedi” swore Jango.

“Yes, Alpha. Yes, yes, yes.”

“So much pups. So much heats. Never leaving you dissatisfied.”

“Alpha!”

“Just like that. Sweet thing, perfect thing. Putting pups in you every year for all your life, want that?”

“Yes, oh Jango, harder, love, Alpha, Jango…”

And on Kamino where the tempest raged, the clones loved their Jedi until dawn, until that new year, every Alpha mounting again and again the Omega that so many pregnancies had softened, kissing and biting and possessing the beloved people that the galaxy had once thought nothing more that tools.

Somewhere on the highest antenna of the city, there was a man, which really shouldn’t have stood upright on a so small, so wet surface with all those raging winds. He was slightly helped by the fact that he was transparent and incorporeal. As the tempest got worse, the small spark of the Force that had been Qui-Gon Jinn smiled.

Unconventional answers to a troubling problem had always been one of his hobbies. Who knew that slightly weighting on the hormonal levels of his brethren was easier that to try to communicate with them?

In the Force, joy, safety, happiness reverberated higher and he could feel Obi-Wan’s more clearly than any other.

With a laugh, he merged with the Force. 


	44. 978-979 after the Ruusan Reformation

They were married only two days after that in a small ceremony. Why wait? Boba and Anakin were there but also a few other Jedi and Anakin grumbled all along until he squealed very suspiciously and Quinlan Vos took his more innocent air. After, Cody swore ten times that yes, he would take care of Boba for the duration of the honeymoon and heat and even with the giant bandage around his head, he was probably the best qualified for that. Jango would never ever let Fives babysit again.

In another life, the bounty hunter would have loved to take Obi-Wan to another planet, perhaps somewhere warm but not too much, or somewhere in some mountains, but right now, with the galaxy still a little unstable, he refused that risk.

Kamino, Kamino was the safest place, the place where he wanted them to be during that vulnerable time, behind planetary shield, the entire Jedi Order and one million vode armed to the teeth. Here was a place where he could let their hormones take his brain hostage.

The heat didn’t rise for another thirty hours but they passed those together, speaking of their past, making out until their mouths were red, and even trying some kinky ideas that would not interest them when the heat would be there and the only interesting thing for them would be Jango possessing Obi-Wan. The Jedi, for the first time, even opened up his lover and took him, a first for him since he had become an Omega and something Jango hadn’t done for most than ten years. It was good, but never as satisfying as the sensation of that sweet, slick hole that milked his semen, and Obi-Wan himself confessed that being knotted eased some craving that no other act could appease.

Then the heat come, unescapable, ferocious and the two of them lost themselves to their instinct. It was always harder to keep some semblance of control in a first shared heat without medication, but Jango who for years had fought hard to be always in control of the situation, for once didn’t care.

They were safe and every time he reached for his Omega, Obi-Wan reached back, begged, asked for more, again and again. He lost count pretty fast. How many times had the red head yielded under him, begged for his knot, yelled in pleasure when he tied him? How many loads were now dripping of him? Between rounds, he plugged him, kissed that flat belly, fantasying about the possibilities. Would it work? Would his seed quicken into his husband’s womb, would Obi-Wan give him a litter?

Twenty-four hours after the beginning of the heat, the mating gland on Obi-Wan’s neck was red, engorged, ready, pushed into preparing the red heat for mating by all the chemical released into Obi-Wan’s body by the knotting. Obi-Wan was non verbal, his pupils so big his eyes seemed black, dripping slick and semen and perfect, the most beautiful thing Jango had ever seen, the most perfect scent he had ever scented.

He pushed him into position once again and the Jedi presented, perfect and desirable and Jango’s, Jango’s only.

With a grunt, the Alpha mounted him, earning himself a yell. Obi-Wan didn’t push back, just mewled every time with the strong movements, his body offered and conquered. The moment the knot caught the rim for the first time, the Omega tumbled into orgasm but Jango didn’t stop, fucked him harder, until Obi-Wan yelled again and came again, dry this time, his body surrendering totally, almost lost to conscience.

The knot tied them and with a last effort as he began to came, Jango leaned down and bit, hard, mating Obi-Wan. Under him, the Omega didn’t even stir at the pain, his body recognizing the safety of his Alpha.

Unknown to them, it was that moment that the first pup of their first litter was conceived, in that perfect moment, life sparked in Obi-Wan’s womb.

Jango rolled them over, kissing slowly the place where the trace of his teeth would scar. With a sigh, Obi-Wan took his hand and placed it on his belly.

“Alpha”, he whispered.

“Your Alpha”, promised Jango and still tied, they let sleep have them. They had still a few days of heat and they would need all their strength.

On the nightstand, the holoclock marked the passage to a new year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnd, this is done. Thank you, all of you, for your nice comments and kudos. Come visit me on tumblr if you want and don't hesitate to tell me wich Jedi/clones pairing you prefer!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr too under the same username! Come and say hi!


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